There's A Weight In Your Eyes
by ryoku1
Summary: Calm said he was suffering from association, which was actually rather common with humanoid androids. His advice had been to stop going to see it. Slaine hadn't listened. Android!Inaho
1. Chapter 1

"You should come home for Christmas."

Slaine offered Klancain that same sheepish smile that he'd been wearing for the past three years every time his younger brother brought up the subject. He suddenly found his old worn-out slippers far more interesting than the look Klancain was no doubt giving him.

"I want to get a head start on my course load for next semester." Slaine tilted his head to the side, his eyes wandering from the floor over to the kitchen, which had not yet been tidied up. The semester had ended almost a week ago, and he had yet to clear off the assortment of books and papers that had accumulated on the table. Slaine would usually have that cleaned up, but in his defense, he'd been rather distracted. He'd have to fix that some time soon. "The science lab is also interested in hiring me to feed their rats over the holiday again. It doesn't pay much, but it's easy, and I already know what to do."

His younger brother shook his head, firmed his lips, and slightly narrowed his eyes in that way that very clearly said Slaine was making excuses. Or, well, Slaine expected he was, cause he was still looking at the kitchen, which also needed dusting. Slaine was making excuses. Instead of even acknowledging what he'd said, Klancain redirected the conversation. "Father isn't even going to be there for most of the holiday. He's got a conference in Zurich."

"Someone needs to take care of Tharsi-" Their parakeet squawked from down the hall. She was especially sensitive to her name being mentioned. Slaine tilted his head slightly towards the hallway, to see if she was going to fly out towards him. She did not, which meant he had to look back in Klancain's direction. Or, well, in his general direction.

Undeterred from either sound, Klancain continued, without any remorse for interrupting him. "Mom will ask about you-" As Klancain had no trouble informing him, she asked every year. Loudly, and repeatedly, according to Klancain. Slaine could feel Klancain staring him down, but refused to make eye contact. It was important.

If Klancain didn't have any problem interrupting him -not that Klancain ever had any problems interrupting him- Slaine could also play that game. In fact, it would be significantly easier, in fact. "Need to make sure the plants are watered-" Slaine kept a million different potted plants in the house. They just died in the winter if he left them outside in their spacious backyard, and he couldn't see the sense in letting that happen. The heating zapped a lot of the moisture, so they needed even more water than usual, but at least they wouldn't die.

Klancain puffed air out of his nose, before promptly cutting Slaine off again, because at this point in their relationship, this was a game they both knew how to play. It was almost as if whoever could get out the most complete, finished thoughts was the winner. That wasn't really the case, but Slaine kept tabs on it anyway. "She doesn't want to mail your presents aga-" She always sent him presents, that was true. Often express. In fact, the mail man knew him for it. Not because his name was weird -which it was, though to be fair Klancain's was stranger- but because he was one of the only people on his regular route who always got a large amount of packages Christmas Eve. The mail man always asked if he was 'holding down the fort' which made his avoidance of familial obligations seem like a much more valiant effort than it actually was. Slaine wouldn't admit out loud that it was embarrassing, when he blushed and nodded his head at the mail man's inquiries. It certainly was embarrassing that the mail man knew when his birthday ways, because the same thing happened in early January.

Klancain wasn't going to win. At least, not in the sense he would want. Slaine had far too many reasons stacked up. He actually written out a list in a notebook when he was suppose to be studying three weeks ago. "What if someone breaks in while we're gone-" Not that it was very likely. They lived in a nice neighborhood, with an exceptionally low crime rate, and had a very good security system. It wasn't likely anyone would be breaking in, but it was technically possible, and significantly less likely if he was still in the house. People were less likely to break in if you were there, or so he'd been told, and it was a nice house, with nice things. Most of those nice things he would like to keep, even if Klancain could afford to buy five of everything in it (and five more houses too).

His younger brother's frown hardened, but Slaine, despite the sweat in his fisted palms and the consistent shifting of his eyes, was not going to be without ammunition this time. That certainly didn't mean Klancain would just give up though. "You don't even eat properly when-" Klancain was reaching there. He did have a slight tendency to get lost in what he was doing, but it didn't stop him from eating. Regularly. Maybe. Besides, it wasn't like he couldn't just cook something, or order take out. He was more than capable in both areas, and unlike some spoiled brat he knew, he actually ate his leftovers instead of letting them go to waste.

Slaine's lips formed into a tighter line, and his cheeks were probably puffing up in the effort. "It's not like I'm going to lock myself in the house and no le-" It was the wrong thing to say, and Slaine knew it. He'd been simply redirecting Klancain's statements, and now he'd just directly responded to one. It was a bad sign, but still, he had to stick to his guns. Klancain, for whatever reason, was being more persistent than usual.

Klancain, predictably, pounced."No, you'll go wandering the streets on your own instead. In the snow. Probably without proper clothing." Slaine tolled off one point for Klancain, the first to get out a complete thought. Blast it!

It took him two seconds too long to respond, and when it did come, it was a mumbled, grumbled little thing. Hardly a valid rebuttal. "I'm from Norway-" Cause he had been at some point, even though it didn't really matter at this point.

"Not anymore you aren't." Clipped and precise, just like Klancain. Another point in his box. This wasn't fair, because Klancain was good at this. Slaine could usually hold his own, but it hadn't exactly been his month.

Instead of answering, Slaine sighed deeply, and kept looking down at the wooden floors of the entryway, thinking about how he could trace little shapes in the wood; little things with eyes and hearts and abstract things that only made sense to him. He wondered if Klancain saw those things, or just saw wood. It was probably just wood to him anyway.

"Slaine," The statement was a request of some sort, and hesitantly Slaine lifted his eyes up to look at his younger brother. Klancain was looking at him, and for a moment, Slaine thought they were going to have 'a talk'. A real, serious 'talk'. Then that moment ended. Klancain closed his eyes, and readjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. Slaine expected him to soften, to look visibly resigned, but he didn't. Klancain's shoulders didn't sag, instead, he just looked tense. "I'll tell mom you got a job, and to expect you for a week in summer, like usual." Klancain didn't look at him again, just turned towards the door, and shook his head. "I'll tell her you're sorry."

"Thank you." Slaine answered softly. Klancain stood around just long enough to hear it, before he was gone. The door was closed before Slaine could get the "Drive safely!" out of his mouth.

\/

Upon checking his e-mail, after puttering around the house needlessly for a few hours, Slaine was relieved to find that a few of his instructors had gotten back to him about his courses for the next semester. Slaine liked to start his school work early. There was something about being prepared that made him less anxious about things. Usually, some of his instructors were responsive, and others were not. Two of the responses were rather simple, they listed the books he'd need, and what extra readings there would be for the coming term. Getting this information ahead of time allowed him to order the books now, and start to read them before the rat race of the semester began.

The third response interested him the most. It was from his self study mechanical engineering course. He would need to find an old machine of some kind -at least 30 years old- and repair it to working condition, or completely refurbish it. He would be required to take good documentation of the process and submit the reports before the end of the semester. After the instructions, there was a list of suggested machines, but at the end of the list, it said that creativity would be rewarded, a simple 'impress me' was at the very bottom of the e-mail. Slaine hoped he could.

He sat for several moments, trying to come up with something that would be suitably impressive. He always found it hardest to come up with things when he was given too much freedom, but he didn't want to refer to the list either. Those items were expected, and he figured he'd only be able to submit something mediocre if he followed them. He was just about to take a walk to help clear his head, when something came to his mind that Slaine knew would be perfect. He scanned the list of options again, but found himself singling in on the 'impress me' once again. Within a few moments, he was headed for the door. Just as he was reaching for the handle, he stopped, groaned, and doubled back for a jacket.

\/

"Calm, guess what I just did." Slaine didn't wait for Calm to give him the obligatory 'Hello' when he answered the phone. He usually would have, but the rush of being impulsive had given him a sort of confidence he didn't usually have and he blurted out the statement as soon as he was sure his friend had answered.

The phone was silent for two seconds, before it came to life again. "You didn't." Calm's voice held just enough accusation to be entirely satisfying. Calm liked to say he was predictable. Slaine liked to prove him wrong, from time to time. When he could, which he had to admit, wasn't often. He wasn't sure if he'd done it this time or not, but he wanted to pretend he had.

Slaine couldn't help the small smile that spread on his face, even if Calm couldn't see it. He probably should have been less pleased, because Calm DID know what he'd done, but he'd learned in his life to savor the little victories, even if they were questionable at best. "I did."

The exasperated sound that came over the phone was enough to make Slaine's smile widen. He could imagine Calm, leaning his head back, probably with some sort of grease on his chin, scrunching up his face. "I told you to let me see it first!"

"I just got the perfect excuse though." Slaine answered a little sheepishly. He half shrugged one of his shoulders, then felt silly, since Calm couldn't even see him.

"Alright," Calm answered, breathy and resigned. "I'm on my way to take a look at it. You really should have waited." The last line was chiding, and Slaine was sure Calm was right. He should have waited, but the need to do something at least slightly irrational had been eating away at him for a while. This really had been an ideal opportunity.

"I've been patient," He answered a little defensively. "but you were always busy." That wasn't entirely true, because Slaine had only mentioned it in passing a few times. Calm had likely assumed he hadn't been serious. The assumption would have been right, of course, but that didn't matter much now. "And, about you coming over, I kinda need you to pick me up." Slaine added, hesitantly.

There was a pause, and then another sign of exasperation. "Of course. You took your bike there." It was more of a rhetorical statement than anything else, but that didn't stop Slaine from mumbling a response.

"I take my bike everywhere."

There was another pause, in which Slaine could almost hear the gears in Calm's head as they ground to another conclusion. "You aren't sitting out in the snow with it are you?"

"No," Slaine answered simply, before looking over his shoulder. "But the shop keeper is looking at me like he wants to kick me out." He said quietly. The clerk really did look annoyed, but just in case he was listening, Slaine didn't want to give him ideas by being overheard.

"I'll be there soon. Text me the address."

Slaine smiled. "Thanks Calm."

He could almost see Calm shaking his head."Don't thank me yet, I could be the bearer of very bad news."

Slaine laughed softly at that. "It can't be that bad."

\/

Slaine had seen the android a month ago, and that was when this strange situation had really started.

Slaine didn't honestly like shopping. When he actually wanted to buy things, or just spend money, he went to nurseries, as the assortment of plants in their apartment was testament to. Despite his general dislike of the pastime, he enjoyed window shopping a lot. In particular, his favorite haunts were art galleries, and antique stores. He loved art, and he loved old things. He even had a list of galleries and antique stores that he frequented. Sometimes, he'd walk through one of those stores, and find one thing, and imagine a whole room decorated around that one thing. He'd think about what else would go with it, about where the lighting should be, and about how the room should look. It was silly, but it was nice too. His childhood had been littered with memories of barren places, hotel rooms and cheap apartments, all with few adornments. It gave him a large catalogue of useless layouts in his head, which made the whole decorating thing even more interesting. It was nice to imagine what it would be like to have a stable home he could decorate himself. The house that he lived in now was Klancain's, paid for with Cruhteo money. It was his home, there was no denying that, but as with everything 'Cruhteo' he didn't feel like he could really do a whole lot with it. It was his space, Klancain had made that perfectly clear, but it didn't feel like his space some times.

Plus, if he was being entirely honest, he didn't like to waste money. Even though he loved art, and antiques, spending money on them always felt like a waste. He could spend money on books -he went to book stores to really spend money too- and he could spend money on food, or the house, or any number of practical things. Art and antiques were not two of those things. They were simply impractical. Still, Slaine liked to look, and he liked to imagine.

It was in one of the many antique stores that he liked to wander through, where he'd seen the android. It had been posed as if it was an oversized doll, lounging in a chair, and Slaine's eyes had immediately been drawn to it. Slaine didn't know why, but reclined in that old wicker chair, with its neck stretched, head angled upwards, and its eyes gently closed, Slaine had felt an unspeakable sadness. When he reflected on it later, it was like seeing a stray animal that he knew he could help. Something about his reaction had been instinctual, and even though he'd walked away, Slaine hadn't forgotten about it.

Calm liked androids, or, well, just about anything mechanical. He looked like a regular kind of guy when you first met him, but once you got to know him, it was easy to see he belonged in engineering or robotics. There was no denying that he belonged in it more than Slaine did. Calm hid it pretty well, because he didn't like to seem nerdy, but once it was obvious, there was no ignoring it. It was rather funny, but Calm could talk more easily about machines than anything else, and he was damn good at building things from the ground up. He wasn't so good at coming up with the initial ideas for things, but once he had a concept, he could make something to fill out the details.

That same day after leaving the antique store, Slaine had called up his friend, and given him a bit of an interrogation. He'd asked all manner of questions about androids. How difficult they were to fix -he had decent skills mechanically, but he'd never tried anything like an android before. How easy were parts to get? What kind of money would someone usually sink into refurbishing one? Calm had answered all his questions rather skillfully. The end result had been that Slaine was pretty sure that he COULD fix that android. It would take a lot of work, and some money, but he was sure he could do it.

That didn't translate to him actually doing it though. Slaine was more than capable of talking himself out of most of his more impulsive urges, and he had done just that in this case. He didn't have the time for such a project. It would cost a lot of money. He could really screw it up. Calm had said it could be a fake. What would Klancain say when he brought home a damn android? His younger brother teased him enough when he brought home more potted plants. Would he just keep it in his room, so that it would sit there ominously at night? What if Tharsis didn't like it? The bird occasionally put up a real fuss about new things.

There were plenty of valid, and not so valid reasons NOT to go out and buy the android. So Slaine hadn't. What he had started to do, was frequent that store a lot more often. He went at least once a week, sometimes significantly more; to the point that the shop keeper had gotten tired of him loitering around, and not buying anything. But, for once, Slaine hadn't cared. Every time he went, he just thought about how lonely it must be to sit in that chair day in and day out. How sad it must be to see people come and go without even being noticed. Calm told him, quite bluntly, that he was suffering from association. Calm also said it was actually rather common with humanoid androids. His advice had been to stop going, but Slaine hadn't listened.

With the project for class, he had no reason to deny the urge any longer. The shop keeper hadn't given him a good price, but it didn't matter. He'd wanted the sad little android, and now it was his. He probably should have waited for Calm to check it out. According to him, there were a lot of fakes on the antique market, but he hadn't waited. If he was being honest, he'd been afraid of what Calm would find. He didn't want his friend to tell him to give up on this, and he certainly didn't want another reason to back down. He'd made his decision, and he'd stick to it.

As he and Calm loaded the large box into the bed of Calm's truck, Slaine didn't think he'd regret the decision, no matter what Calm said.


	2. Chapter 2

It occurred to Slaine, as he and Calm unloaded the box from the back of the truck, that it felt like he was carrying a coffin. It was shaped like a human, there was something that looked like a human inside it, and he was carrying one end, while Calm carried the other. They were like pallbearers. He'd been too young when his father had died to be a pallbearer, but he'd always wondered how it would feel, how difficult it would be to carry another person to their grave. The thought was unsettling, and he shifted so that he was holding the handle in his other hand. He was not carrying a coffin, he reminded himself.

There was a minor hick-up when Calm stubbed his toe, and his side went crashing to the floor as he cursed in irritation, but for the most part, getting the human sized box into the apartment was rather easy. It wasn't nearly that heavy. Whatever emotional weight he'd imagined, hadn't been there. He happened to catch a glimpse of Calm, as they set the thing down on the floor. He couldn't tell if it was the pain in his foot, or something else that had Calm frowning so much, but Slaine shook the thought off. He quickly shuffled the things on the kitchen table off, depositing them in various other places, so that he could organize and put them away later. Once that was done, they hoisted the box back up, and gently placed it on the table. He was thankful for the flower print table cloth that he usually kept on it, but amended that he'd have to start using something other than the white one. With a white thing over the table, it almost felt like he was Dr. Frankenstein, or worse, a medical examiner.

He sighed in exasperation and shook his head. What was with him today and the morbid metaphors? He reminded himself what the psychologist had said; that he tended to expect less of himself and others around him, and that he always imagined the worst. He was probably expecting some sort of failure out of this subconsciously, and the thought made him mad. He hadn't even started, and he was already setting himself up for failure.

He looked up, and saw that Calm was looking at him. Slaine offered a sheepish smile that made it obvious he had been caught off guard, and then angled his gaze back to the coffin- BOX, in front of him.

"Go on." Calm said. "Do the honors. Let's figure this out." Calm did not sound positive about the situation, not even slightly. Slaine wondered if that frown really had been from more than his stubbed toe. Slaine was almost scared to find out, but he repeated the word 'commitment' to himself, and methodically went about opening the box. He removed the android from it and placed it gently on the table. It was sort of amazing how human it looked, how its neck stretched when he didn't hold its head properly, how its limbs sagged when they were left unattended. He thought of all those movies, with people carrying dead bodies. About how their movements flowed, how muscles didn't react. He then wanted to punch himself, violently so, because really this was not helping!

He let out an irritated growl, shook his head, and looked up at Calm. "First thing. It can't be older than 60 years, because we can pick it up. Material got much lighter at that point." Calm then reached down and carelessly flicked open the right eye. Slaine glared at his friend for being so callous, but then reminded himself, that this was an it, not a person. He looked over at the eye, and gaped. Instead of what should have been an eye, was an empty cavity. He looked up at Calm, and he did not like what he saw.

Calm's mouth was a jagged, down turned line, and his eyebrows were furrowed together. "Get me a damp wash cloth," he stated. Slaine blinked down at the gaping cavity, before scurrying off to do what he was told.

As he did, he heard Tharsis screech, and took a detour down the hallway to greet the bird. "I'm back," he said, and Tharsis chirped a "Welcome back!" at him, before fluttering over to perch on his shoulder. He nuzzled his cheek against the white parakeet, and then went about getting the wash cloth Calm had requested.

When he got back, he almost dropped the washcloth, when he saw Calm slowly removing layers of clothing. The white gloves that had been on the android's hands were long gone, and Calm was unbuttoning the cheap, gaudy, navy blue suit that had been put on the android. Slaine reminded himself that he really was associating, and fought down the embarrassment on his face. He quickly moved back to the table, and handed Calm the washcloth.

Calm offered a quick 'thanks' before he started dabbing away at the android's face. As he did, great splotches of skin tone started to rub away. Slaine blinked, and couldn't keep the scowl off his face as obvious damage started to show itself. Rusted metal and sharp edges, with paper taped to make it look like one solid piece without obvious holes. "Did they put MAKEUP on him?"

Calm nodded. "It's really common in fakes. That's why store clerks don't like people looking too much. They expect people like you to not know what you should be looking for, but the more you look, the more likely you are to notice these things." Slaine hadn't noticed, but the store keepers irritation suddenly made a lot more sense. Once Calm had satisfactorily wiped at the face, he moved onto the hand, but Slaine couldn't keep his eyes off of the android's face. The eye had been violently ripped out. He knew enough about these things, that it hadn't been through regular maintenance. He reached over, and pulled off the paper taped around the eye socket, and found that the hole around it looked suspiciously like someone had just reached in and pulled the eye out without any care for the damage it would cause. Underneath, he could see rusted wires, and knew that they had been forcibly disconnected. The thought made him sick. All around the holes were jagged patches of flaking rust. Whatever had happened, it hadn't been too recent, and no one had cared to fix it.

"Make up is way cheaper than the proper sensory skins." Calm chimed in, as he lifted up one of the android's hands, and let the whole arm thump to the table. He then reached over, and did the same thing to the other, but that arm made a very different sound. Calm frowned again. Slaine looked between the two arms, not sure why the sound had been different, until Calm reached over, and none to gently pulled the right arm clean off.

Slaine audibly gasped, and Tharsis nuzzled at him, and started nibbling on his ear, obviously noticing that he was distressed. Calm then casually thumped the appendage against the table a few times. "Plastic. This is a mannequin arm." He looked over at Slaine sadly. "Also very common." Calm then methodically removed the blue suit, being none to gentle about dumping the android back onto the table, and then reached for the wash cloth again. He dabbed at the elbow stub, and Slaine could see that the original arm had also been ripped off. There was a great deal of damage to the skin and metal frame work beneath it. Again he could see orange rust spreading like a cancer. He sighed again, and reminded himself that morbid imagery was not what he needed at the moment. Instead of the pulled cords that he had seen on the eye socket, the cords here were neatly snipped. He assumed that was so that the plastic arm could be more easily fit on, because he could see tears that indicated that they had originally been pulled off as well. Who would gorge out someone's eye, and rip off one of their arms? One of its arms, he reminded himself. Not human.

He watched as Calm wiped down the chest area, uncovering several holes, some from rust and decay, and some from punctures. Someone had violently abused this thing. Without even thinking about it, Slaine reached down, and grasped for the hand on his side. It was cold to the touch, and since he hadn't realized he'd done it, he pulled away quickly. It was only after he had, that he felt some sort of residue on his hand, and rubbed his fingers together. He looked over at Calm, who had not been gentle in rubbing down the android's chest, but had finished and was assessing the damage. He was going to need to get another washcloth soon.

"Can I have the wash cloth?" Calm looked up at him, shrugged, and handed the now dirty piece of cloth over. Gently, Slaine reached down and started rubbing at the hand, but instead of the wear and tear he'd expected, he found a word. The letters had been carved through the skin, and even into the metal plating. "Ina ho?" He looked up at Calm. "Do you know what Inaho means?"

Calm looked at him, then down at the hand, before shrugging, and turning back to the chest damage. "Could be an owner's name. Could be the robots name. Could be vandalism. Could be a retailer's signature. Could be a lot of things." Slaine watched as Calm moved around the table, to lift up the android's head, and he winced. "There's a lot of damage back here." He placed the head down, and then moved over to Slaine's side of the table.

He carelessly flicked the other eyelid open, and one dead eye peered out behind the heavy lid. It was a dark red color, like clotted blood. Calm looked at him sympathetically, and then reached for the android's neck. He felt around for a few moments, and shook his head. "No voice box." He looked over at Slaine apologetically. "I'm sorry Slaine, this is pretty bad."

Slaine looked down at the abused thing spread across his kitchen table, and looked back up at Calm. "So, it'll cost a lot more to fix then?" He asked, wincing at the thought of it. Calm's original estimate had not been small to begin with.

The sad look on Calms face was not a good sign. "No, actually. You can't fix it." He motioned to the eye. "I suspected as much, with this sort of damage, but the eye confirms it. There's only one model that was made with red eyes. They were combat models made for the interplanetary war 60 years ago." Calm's solemn face looked down on him for a few moments (he hated being shorter than EVERYONE) and Slaine fidgeted.

"So, parts will be hard to find?" He asked.

Calm shook his head. "No. It's an illegal model." He motioned towards the android. "This was made as a weapon. The only class of androids made for that purpose. You can't fix it, because we're going to scan the barcode behind its ear, it's going to be registered in the database, and the proper authorities are going to come and take it away." Calm looked down at the android, and shook his head again. "They'll ask you a few questions and you might get your money back, but that's it Slaine. No fixing it."

Slaine's eyes widened, and he looked down at the android, stretched bare and defenseless on his table. Someone had gone out of their way to cheat him, but somehow, he couldn't find himself upset about that. Not when there was something so needing in care and attention in front of him. He really had this association thing bad.

In sympathy, Calm clamped him on the shoulder. "I know, I know. The first one is always the hardest Slaine. Most people that work with androids get association at some point, but you have to remember, it's a thing. It didn't feel any pain, because androids don't feel pain. It's a thing and it doesn't need to be fixed." Calm shook his head again, and headed for the door. "I'll bring my scanner by tomorrow. You make your peace, or whatever it is you want or need to do, okay?"

"Calm"

"I know, I know, it isn't an easy thing, but at least you didn't get to know it. I tell ya, it's a million times worse when you've been interacting with it and it talks and knows you. At least-"

"Calm!" Slaine said it sharply this time, and his friend looked over at him with furrowed brows. Slaine shook his head. "He doesn't have a barcode."


	3. Chapter 3

"Tharsis, that's rude."

"Rude!" The bird chirped back, and pulled its head out of the cavity that should have held the android's right eye. Slaine whistled at the parakeet, and Tharsis hopped a few time on the android's face, then fluttered back over to his shoulder, and nudged him. He whistled a few more times, because he knew that's what Tharsis wanted, while typing away on his lap top. The white and grey bird started whistling with him.

He stopped whistling when he got involved with his typing, and Tharsis started nibbling on his ear lobe. "You pick the song then." He mumbled, and Tharsis chirped again, before whistling a different tune. Slaine found himself humming along absentmindedly, and mumbling the words from time to time.

Then, with a click of the computer, he stopped, and cleared his voice. "Alright, Take 1..." He looked over at Tharsis. "Is that how I'm supposed to do that? It sounds sorta silly..." The bird chirped back at him, and started whistling again, before Slaine shushed her. "We're recording Tharsis, this is serious business! My grades are at stake!" He looked over at the monitor, and then groaned. "Well, maybe. Okay, take 1. Which probably should not be included in my assignment..."

He slowly stood from his seat, and took the lap top with him. "Here we see Mr. Sad Android - I'll figure out a better name at some point." He made sure the lap top's camera was angled towards the android, and made a point of slowly panning up and down the length of its - clothed- body. "It's older than 30 years, in horrible shape, and cost me way too much money." Slaine sighed. "It also seems to be highly illegal, but of course that's why we're not going to submit this video, right Tharsis?"

The bird chirped.

"Right." Slaine placed the lap top down on a high stool, and angled it so that the camera was still trailed along the android. "It's in really horrible shape. The right arm has been ripped off, and the eye-" As if on cue, Tharsis flew off of his shoulder, and landed on the android's face. It then stuck its head into the gaping eye socket, again. "Tharsis! Rude!"

"Rude!" The bird answered back, and fluttered away to perch on top of the android's head.

Slaine groaned, and shook his head. "Anyway. The right eye has been ripped out as well. There's puncture wounds -I'm doing it again- punctures to the chest, and there seems to be a lot of rust damage. I'm going into this blind, so it's a very daunting project for me. But-" he motioned behind him, where a huge stack of books and tools were in a box on the couch. "Calm has lent me lots of books on repairing this sort of thing."

Slaine averted his eyes, and smiled sheepishly. "And admonished me for being crazy, among other clever and colorful compound words we won't be repeating." He glared over at Tharsis. "Right, Tharsis." The parakeet chirped at him. Slaine shook his head.

"As I was saying, there are a lot of cosmetic repairs that need to be made, but there are also some vital parts missing too. I've gone ahead and ordered a few things, but for some of the parts, I have no idea. The model is old, and parts are sort of illegal. So, I'm going to have to figure out which model's parts work best for him, since I won't be able to get parts from his model legally." Slaine looked over at the android, and spread his lips into a thin line. "I'd feel horrible if I had to cannibalize another one to fix this one, plus there is the legality of the situation to consider. I might get off on being ignorant for keeping this one. If I have more than one, I'll look more like a collector." Slaine shook his head. "That's only as a last resort. I'm hoping I can use more modern parts, and make him even more functional than he was when he was new!"

Tharsis chirped at his excitement, and fluttered back over to his shoulder. He smiled at the parakeet, and petted her head with his finger. "I'm probably being too optimistic about this, but I think it's something worth doing." He turned his head towards Tharsis on his shoulder, and the bird affectionately pecked him on the lips. He smiled. "At least someone's on my side, right Tharsis?" The bird chirped back at him.

He turned back towards the lap top, and smiled. "Well, uh, that's about all. Ca-" Slaine cleared his throat. "SOMEONE, brought over a converter cord so that I can manually access the mainframe, and see if it's still functioning. So, we're going to do that now. According to Ca- my sources, either nothing will happen, or I'll get a menu of some sort." Slaine looked over at the android again. "Let's hope it's in English. Remember future me, this is the first one, and you'll need to redo it, you know without all the illegal mentions. Do not, I repeat Do NOT, submit this video for the course!"

Then, with a click of the mouse, Slaine ended the video. He looked at the screen for a few moments, shook his head again, and got up. Tharsis immediately flew off of his shoulder, and went straight back to the android's eye socket. "Tharsis..." Slaine warned.

Without prompting, the bird chirped "Rude!" back at him, and fluttered to land on top of the android's head again.

Slaine bunched up his lips. "You don't go poking around in someone's vacant eye socket, Tharsis. There's nothing in there. What if you develop a habit of poking people's eyes that way? Then no one is going to like you but me, and once you poke out both my eyes, I won't be able to see you. You'll be sorry then!" Slaine shook his finger at the bird. In retaliation, the bird landed on it, and looked at him with its head cocked to the side.

Slaine frowned. "Okay, so I was exaggerating. Still, no empty eye socket pecking!"

He deposited Tharsis on the table, and went about rummaging through all the things Calm had brought over. It had taken a while to convince Calm that it was a good idea - scratch that, he was sure he hadn't convinced Calm it was a _good_ idea, but he had convinced Calm it was an idea, and it was what he was doing- but once he had convinced Calm, he had proven quite supportive. Not supportive as in 'sure I'll help you in your illegal endeavors' but more along the lines of 'you have no idea what you're doing, and if you google it you might get us in trouble, so here are all these tools, books, and cords that I did not lend you'.

When he found the cord in question, he carefully extracted it from the other items, and moved to the android's head. He lifted up its head carefully, and winced. He hadn't really looked at the damage at the back of the head, but now that he looked at it, it looked quite sever. How had he kept missing that time and time again? That was when he distinctly remembered how the android had been positioned, with its head back, and its neck exposed. The back of the head would never be seen in that instance, and the neck, one of the parts that had sustained no damage, was easily on display. Slaine shook his head. He really had been naive about this whole thing.

The proper plug was at the base of the neck, and he was happy to see that it was undamaged. Carefully, he slipped the cord in, and gently placed the head down on its side, so that the cord wouldn't dig into its neck. He smiled, and his eyes caught on the android's profile. Most of the left side of the face had gone unharmed, and with it facing up, the android looked incredibly human. Like someone who had just rolled over in sleep. Slaine's smile softened and he moved some brown locks of hair out of the android's face.

Not human, he reminded himself, and quickly went back to sit in front of his computer, and plug in the cord.

Within seconds, a menu popped up, and Slaine's eyes brightened. Sensing his excitement, Tharsis flew over to his shoulder, and started nibbling on his ear. "Look at that Tharsis! He still functions! Now...which one of these options..." He almost got up to consult one of the books he'd borrowed when the menu acted on its own. He wasn't sure what had happened, but the menu went blank, except for one black line blinking at him.

Slaine narrowed his eyes. Was he supposed to enter a command? "That's strange..." He was going to get up again and consult one of the books, when something else happened.

 _I have often been called strange._

Slaine about jumped out of his skin dashing to his feet. Tharsis fled his shoulder, and the chair he'd been seated on tumbled to the ground as he tripped over it. There, written in the text box, was something he had never expected. He blinked at the text dumbfounded.

 _I did not mean to startle you._

Pause.

 _I would prefer it if you didn't scream. I am not fond of loud noises._


	4. Chapter 4

"Tharsis!" Slaine yelled, and the bird was in his hand in a heartbeat. He hadn't controlled his breathing yet, but he was stumbling back up to his feet, one hand cupped so that Tharsis could easily nest into it, and the other shielding the bird as he held it close to his chest. He stumbled a few times, and almost tripped on the chair again, but managed to right himself as Tharsis screeched. Once he was on his feet he could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears, and hesitantly he moved the hand shielding Tharsis away. The bird looked up at him with its head cocked. It was worried.

"Tharsis, nest." At the command, the bird was out of his hand, and up into the rafters of the houses high ceilings. It was a favorite place for her to hide when something she didn't like was brought into the house.

Slaine fumbled back over towards the coffee table, where he'd left his phone, and headed for the door, his feet pounding. Then he looked up, saw Tharsis looking down at him, and he stopped. He couldn't take her outside in this cold. He looked over at his computer screen, where at least five more lines had appeared on the menu. He'd knocked off his glasses at some point in his spill, and at this length, there was no way he could read what it said. Slaine then shifted his eyes back to the android. It had looked so sad and forlorn, and now all he could imagine was it getting up and murdering him and his bird like some horror movie. His breathing hadn't slowed down, and his heart was still hammering away in his ears. It wasn't a good feeling.

Another line of text came on, but he decided to ignore it. He almost pressed the emergency numbers, but then thought better of it, and redialed for Calm. Or, well, he tried to redial for Calm, but the phone fumbled out of his hands, and clattered to the floor. He hastily picked it up, and heard a dinging of some sort. He looked at the android as if expecting it to start blinking at him with its gaping empty eye or something equally sinister, but nothing had happened. Then he heard the noise again, and noticed that it had come from his computer. Another line on the text popped up, and another ding went with it.

His eyes widened. There hadn't been a ding before. Was it assigning sound effects on its own to make sure he heard when it said something? He wanted to scream. He had association because it was obviously sentient, not because it was sad or sympathetic! It was made to kill things and now it was reassigning tasks like a virus on his computer! It was probably e-mailing all his friends and family that he was going to take an extended holiday to some far away country, and that they'd see him again in two years. It would tell them he was taking Tharsis with him, not to expect any of them for a long time. That would give it plenty of time to get rid of the bodies. It would need the extra time with only one arm.

He was almost hyperventilating. This was a horrible idea. Why did he have bad ideas? Why did this always happen! He was fumbling with his phone again, when the computer went white. He focused his eyes on the screen in horror. It had pulled up the internet. He saw a happy smiling search engine blinking back at him. Within a few moments, there was text in the text box, and his faster than normal internet was working just as it always did. It didn't know it was being invaded by a murderous sentient android.

He was back to dialing Calm's number, but his mind was going completely blank. He couldn't for the life of him remember what number Calm was, or what his number was. He tried to access the stupid teleprompter thing, but as he screamed "CALM!" into his phone the phone simply answered back in a monotone, feminine voice: "Adjective: of a person, action, or manner not showing or feeling nervousness, anger or other emotions." He almost screamed, he'd clicked the dictionary, how had he clicked the dictionary? He was going to die, he was just going to die, he knew it and poor Tharsis would see it from the rafters and-

"Stop. Slaine. Please. Stop. Slaine." The voice was feminine, definitely one of those strange voice clip options that they had in online dictionaries. He paused, and looked back up at his screen. He could see about four tabs open on his computer. It was sentient; it knew very well what it was doing. He shifted his gaze over to its still body, his shoulders still heaving. It hadn't moved. Not an eye had twitch, or a hair had moved.

"Slaine." The feminine voice called again. He held his breath, trying to convince himself to calm down, to think rationally.

The mouse of his computer glided over to another tab. "Sorry." and then back to the previous one. "Slaine."

The android hadn't moved. It was still lying there, unresponsive. Why would it have stayed at the store if it was able to move, he asked himself. Why would it care about calming him down, if it was just going to murder him? (The answer was that it didn't want him telling the only other living person that knew about it, but thinking that would be considered PARANOID.) He swallowed.

The mouse clicked to another tab "Please." And then back to the first. "Slaine."

When he stayed as quiet as could be, clutching the phone to his chest, other pages opened. "Please. Listen. To. Me. Slaine." He stopped breathing for half a second, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Please."

He slowly took one labored, shaky breath into his lungs, and made a very stupid decision. "Promise you aren't going to murder me." He was suppose to say it strong and solemn, and seriously. What actually happened, was that it came out as some whimper/rasp/demand/plea. It was mostly pathetic, but it was out there already, and of all the things to worry about in that situation, how he sounded was really unimportant.

New tabs came to life. "I. Promise. Slaine."

"a-and my pet parakeet." He felt dumb for saying that, because Tharsis could easily get away from anything on the ground, but he had to know if he needed to keep her out of her cage and in the rafters. Not that the android would admit to dreaming of murdering his pet bird.

"I. Promise. Slaine."

"And my brother. He lives here too. Most of the time." There seemed to be a labored pause after that one.

"I. Promise. Slaine."

"And Calm." Because Calm knew about the whole thing, and so if anyone was going to be murdered after him, it was Calm. "You can't murder him either."

The pause was longer this time. He couldn't tell if that was out of some form of irritation, or out of genuine hesitation. It was impossible to say. "I. Promise. Slaine."

Slaine swallowed the lump in his throat. Dumb decision time was upon him. "Okay Mr. Creepy Sentient Murdermachine. I'm listening."

There was a flurry of motion, as tabs clicked open, and loaded at various speeds. It was rapid, much faster than he could make it go himself. Once all of the pages were loaded, he heard the same feminine voice come on. "Don't. Call. Me. That." He could almost feel the reproach through the room. His brother always said he was way too sensitive and now he was starting to believe it. A randomly generated dictionary voice was starting to sound emotional to him. After a brief pause, a "Please." ended the statement.

Slaine nodded once, very slowly. "Okay."

"Rude!" Tharsis chirped above him, and Slaine about jumped out of his skin. He glared up at the bird reproachfully, but from the rafters, it just cocked its head at him. True to his command, it stayed there though.

There was another flurry of motion on the screen, and the automated voice came back. "Bird. Is. Right. Very. Rude."

Slaine shot Tharsis another glare, but the bird only chirped at him. "Okay. What do you want from me?"

Only one new tab opened this time. "Fix. Me." After a suitable time for contemplation, a belated, "Please." followed the statement.

He looked at the android, then back at the ominous lap top screen suspiciously. "You'll be a good android? You won't make me regret fixing you, right?"

The answer was faster than most of the other answers. "I. Promise. Slaine."

This was a horrible idea. He knew that. Slaine had absolutely no doubt of it. He was fiddling with things he didn't understand. He'd been playing around, and found something that was potentially very dangerous. He should call Calm, or the authorities, and have the thing taken away. Even he knew enough to know that this was not normal android behavior. As he had already assessed, this was sentient. It thought, it felt, and it had its own obvious interests, it got offended, and it was scary. Slaine suddenly realized why this model was very, very illegal. No other android that he'd ever heard of could match this one, and it wasn't even able to move. Despite being 60 years old, it had figured out seamlessly how to get into his computer, and work it without any problems. It was actually convincing him of something, a modern android would never do such a thing. It took orders, it didn't ask, or beg. This one did.

This android knew what it wanted, and it was sentient enough to know that it wanted anything. How did it differ from a human? Slaine wasn't sure. As he slowly, hesitantly padded over to retrieve his glasses, and sit in front of the lap top, he figured he would find out.

"Alright. I can try."

At the sound of his voice, all the online windows closed, and the original menu blinked back to life. He could see a long string of messages that spread before him, most of them looking border line panicked. As he read over the log of increasingly frantic messages, one more line appeared at the bottom, followed closely by a few more.

 _Thank you, Slaine._

 _I apologize for frightening you._

 _I have waited a long time._


	5. Chapter 5

Slaine felt faint. His heart was still pounding in his ears, and he was having a hard time breathing exactly right, but he told himself that he PROBABLY didn't need to feel so worried anymore. Maybe. He was making an effort to take deep calming breathes, and slowly bring his heart rate down. He reminded himself that feeling light headed wasn't that strange given the circumstances, and tried not to freak out about it.

"So.." He started, and stopped, his breathing still making it difficult to just say things. It was difficult to come down from such an adrenaline high.

 _Deep even breaths are best for realigning yourself._

 _Please take care not to over exert yourself._

Slaine found himself glaring at the screen around trying to steady his breathing. He was about to say something that Tharsis definitely would have called 'Rude!' when the bird fluttered down to his shoulder. He turned his head to look over at her, and she pecked his lips affectionately. It was a lot easier to calm down with her so close by, and the disorientation started to slowly drift away.

 _Your breathing has slowed._

 _I will take measures not to startle you in the future._

 _I apologize for scaring you._

Slaine looked at the computer screen, then back over to Tharsis. He reached up and pet her head. She cooed and nibbled at his ear, before fluttering up to perch on top of his head, and play with his hair. He breathed out contentedly, when he heard a ding again. He looked over at the screen again. The ding hadn't been there a few seconds ago, when the android had put in a response, but now it was suddenly there again.

 _I can hear you breathing._

He'd already gathered that the machine could hear him. That hadn't been a far stretch, considering it had shown as much in its previous statements. But could it see? Or feel? Slaine wasn't sure. He was reaching up for Tharsis, when the computer dinged again. This time, Tharsis squawked in irritation at it.

 _Respond._

Slaine looked at the command incredulously, and slowly reached over to poke at the android's left limb. The computer dinged again, and Slaine was sure the android had felt the touch, but when he looked over, he couldn't be sure.

 _Slaine, respond._

He scrunched up his face. The android probably would have taken a touch as a response, if it had felt it. He wasn't sure it had. Perhaps its sensors were disconnected, or it really couldn't feel anythin- It dinged again.

 _Please, Slaine._

"I'm here." He hadn't even thought of the response. It had just come out of his mouth. He shifted his eyes from the screen, back to the form of the android on his kitchen table. He remembered very well, how he'd thought of it as a body, how he'd felt sad watching it in the store day after day, alone and motionless. He was still frightened; there was no doubt that it could probably kill him. Even still, those emotions, those feelings he was imposing upon it were quite strong. "I haven't left you."

 _Please do not, Slaine._

The dinging was gone again.

 _Please do not ignore me, Slaine._

This thing was playing him for a fool, he was positive of it. Androids weren't this way, they weren't manipulative, they didn't have feelings and they certainly didn't ask for anything. He knew enough to know that. This thing really was dangerous, but he found himself sympathizing, and the idea of such solitude rang painfully in his mind."Will you keep your word? You aren't going to hurt me, or anyone else?" Slaine was sure that if a machine could manipulate him in this way, it could easily lie too, but he wanted to believe that it wouldn't.

 _I will keep my word._

 _I will not harm you, Slaine._

There was no way to know, no possible way to read if the statement was true or false. Trust was a really big issue in this case. He knew that he definitely shouldn't, but as he looked over at the android, lifeless at his side, Slaine knew that his caution was a lost cause. Calm was right, he had association, and he had it bad. He just hoped that if something really did come from his inability to see reason, that he would be the only one to suffer the consequences.

"Okay, then I will trust you." He could still feel Tharsis playing with his hair affectionately, and it was very, very calming. He was pretty sure he was making a horrible mistake, but so be it. "You promised, so it's only fair that I promise too. I will do everything I can to fix you."

 _Thank you, Slaine._

 _I knew it would be you._

Slaine blinked at the screen for a few seconds, not sure if he should be flattered or freaked out. In the end, he settled for something neutrally in the middle. "P-pardon?"

 _You kept coming back._

 _I knew one day, you would take me with you._

"O-oh..." Something painful twisted inside him. "How did you know it was me?"

 _I memorized your breathing patterns and the sound of your footsteps._

 _Of all the humans that appraised me, you returned most, and with the most discernible consistency._

 _The proprietor even made unflattering terms to describe you._

 _It is unfortunate that you paid such a high price for me._

The messages happened in such rapid succession, that Slaine found he didn't really have time to respond to each individual one. The android certainly could respond faster than he could read. That was probably all well and good; he didn't really know how to respond to most of the things it was saying. He just knew that if it was a human talking to him, he would be blushing up a storm by now. By the heat he could feel in his cheeks, he probably was anyway. "Uh, i-it was nothing..."

 _Thank you for paying it anyway._

Now he really was blushing. "I-it really was nothing, I mean..."

 _I have made you uncomfortable._

 _I apologize._

 _I will change my behavior to suit your preferences._

"No! No, I-I mean..." He paused, not really sure what he wanted to say. This was all entirely foreign to him. This thing was sentient, it felt, and it obviously had concerns and was well capable of feeling gratitude. He decided in that moment that it might as well be human, and that it would only be appropriate for him to treat it as such. "You don't have to change, not for me. I'll accept you as you are. You can be who you want to with me."

It seemed like a very long time, before another line of text appeared on the screen.

 _Thank you, Slaine._

 _You exceed my every expectation._

Now he really was blushing like a loon. A change of subject was definitely in order. "Uh, so, you know my name, but what should I call you?"

 _Please call me Inaho._

"Oh," Slaine blinked, and looked at the hand sitting motionless beside him. He reached over and felt the marks that had been etched into the flesh of its hand. "So Inaho is your name." He traced the name a few more times, taking the lifeless hand into his own. "Inaho, can you feel that?"

 _I can feel nothing._

Slaine frowned, and held the hand tighter, not trying to hurt it, but to illicit some sort of response. "How about that?"

 _I have felt nothing for a very long time._

"I see." Slaine held the android's hand in one of his own, and rubbed gently on it with his other. It would have been a comforting gesture on a normal human. It was probably easier to do without embarrassment, since Inaho couldn't feel it. "We'll try and fix that." He gently placed the hand back onto the table. "I don't know how to fix many things. Do you know enough about your maintenance to help me?"

 _Yes._

 _If you approve, I can procure equivalent parts through internet sites._

Slaine nodded, and as he did so, Tharsis fluttered off of his head, and instead perched atop Inaho's.

 _What is the bird doing?_

Slaine smiled. "She's perched on top of your head, playing with your hair. She likes you." He sighed. "You're pretty lucky, because she doesn't usually like new people. I guess you're an exception."

 _Her name is Tharsis?_

"Mm'hm." He nodded in confirmation, before realizing it was a useless movement. "Don't ask why, it's a long story." He looked over at the bird, and whistled at her. Tharsis perked up at the noise, and fluttered back towards him. She landed on his shoulder, and started whistling with him. When she really got into it, he stopped, and let her continue on her own. "You can find the right parts, but let me know before you buy them, okay?"

 _I will not order them without your express permission._

Tharsis kept whistling happily at him, and he snuggled his cheek up to her as she hopped from foot to foot rhythmically. She responded in kind, nudging his cheek affectionately. "Well, I guess this is your home now, Inaho. Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?"

 _Repairs are my main priority._

Slaine hummed at the statement. "Alrig-"

 _But, I do have one selfish request._

 _Please be forward with me if my request is unreasonable._

Slaine smiled. "Well, of course I'll hear you out. What is it?"

 _When you are here, in this house with me, I want to always be able to hear you breathe._


	6. Chapter 6

"No, not from the table." Slaine stated, and he placed the load of dirty sheets into the laundry. "I don't like you on the table anyway. It makes you look like a science experiment."

The mobile phone in his pocket buzzed, and blasted loudly 'DOMO ARIGTO MISTER ROBATO' It was on the 'DOMO DOMO DOMO' bit when he unlocked the screen and looked at the message sprawled across the vibrant display.

 _I have found another suitable part. Please follow the link and review it. Staying on the table is fine. Your choice in ringtone is in bad taste, please change it._

Slaine snickered at reading the last part, before shaking his head, and starting up the washing, and adding in the detergent. Once that was done, he slipped the phone back into his pocket. "No, the table is a bad place. I eat there, I don't want you on it forever."

He set the proper settings, and walked over towards the hall closet where they kept the linens. "Just put the link on the list with the others," Slaine waved his hand dismissively, as if Inaho could see him, before feeling a little silly and shaking his head. "When I'm done I'll check it."

After appraising the various options, he settled on the light peach set of sheets, and grabbed them as his phone went off again. He carried them quickly into the guest bedroom closest to his own room down the hall, before fishing his phone out of his pocket again. He was unlocking his phone when he received a second message. He scanned over the second one first.

 _I cannot hear you from where you are, please come back._

Slaine furrowed his eyes brows, and swiftly moved from the bedroom, through the hallway, and into the living room. "Better?" He stated, without really expecting an answer. He looked through his phone for the first message. "First thing we need to fix is your legs."

 _Then vacating the table is a good idea. Where will you place me? Please be considerate of my request. I will add the link to the list, and continue looking for parts. The sooner we order, the sooner they will arrive. Your choice in ringtone is in bad taste, please change it._

Slaine huffed in amusement. "The time it will take me to set up the guest bedroom is not going to matter too much as far as ordering is concerned. Try not to worry so much, we'll get your parts ordered. I gave my word, didn't I? Trust me a little."

He wandered over to the kitchen table, and looked over the still android laying there. Inaho hadn't once moved on his own. It was strange to think that he could communicate with the cell phone Slaine had hooked up to him, but that he was entirely immobile otherwise. "I'll put you in the guest bedroom closest to mine until you can decide where you want to stay. As long as I leave the bedroom doors open, you should be able to hear me from there."

Slaine waited, raking his eyes over Inaho, and anticipating the blare of 'DOMO'. Only a few seconds later, his phone did just that, and he unlocked the screen to see the response.

 _Better. Thank you. My legs are relatively unharmed, they only received accessory damage. Once my main power supply is replaced, they should work without issue. Please do not forget to order the parts. I do not wish to annoy you. I do trust you, Slaine, but I am helpless. Please understand that all I can do is trust you. If you were just in the guest bedroom you spoke of, then I do not find it a suitable place. I could not hear you from here, and you must travel here to eat at least three times a day. I also will be unable to tell when you have returned to the home if you place me in the guest bedroom, and leave. Your choice in ringtone is in bad taste, please change it._

He read over the message two or three times, before shaking his head. He pulled out a chair, and sat down, as he fiddled with his phone for a few minutes. Inaho stayed characteristically quiet, and he wondered absentmindedly what it would be like when he could talk. Would Klancain approve of having another thing living in their home? He was pretty sure he could convince him, and Inaho -despite being capable of real damage- seemed overly genuine and kind. Two very un-android traits. He wondered how Klancain would handle it. Slaine accepted that he would have to handle the situation delicately.

"Alright Inaho, you win. I changed the ringtone." He then went back to the previous message, and looked over it one more time, before looking over at the android, lifeless and still on the kitchen table. "Have you found a replacement power supply? I'd like to get your main motor functions going as soon as possible. If all we need for that is the right power supply, I'd like to get that soon." Slaine looked over at the limp legs on the table, and reached over to feel them. It surprised him how human they felt; cool to the touch, but fleshy, and malleable in his fingers. They felt human. "I don't think I can really understand, but I'll try, Inaho. I think the only thing that is going to help is time. Once you know me better, and you can do things for yourself, you won't worry, and stress so much."

Slaine didn't wait for a response, as he placed his phone into his pocket, and rose from the chair. He stepped a little closer, and carefully hooked his one arm under Inaho's knees, and the other behind his back, and lifted. The android bent just like a human would in his arms, and he had to do a little rearranging, so that Inaho's head rested gently on his chest, instead of lolling about over his arm.

"Try not to worry about this, Inaho." Slaine stated, and started walking towards the guest bedroom. "You aren't very heavy, and you're a little smaller than me. Till you can move around yourself, I'll move you when I leave." He had to go sideways into the doorway, so that they both fit, but as long as it worked, it didn't really matter. Once in the room, he headed for the plush chair by the little tea table. "This will be a good permanent room for you, Inaho. It might be a pain now, but when you can move around, it'll be good for you to have your own space, and somewhere you can put things you might want."

He gently eased Inaho down, and made sure that his head was not bent in a way that would have been uncomfortable. "I don't know what my brother will say about all this, but I should be able to convince him."

Slaine smiled. Inaho almost looked comfortable in the armchair. Pleased with himself, he turned back towards the bed, were he'd placed the light peach sheets. He'd already gotten the fitted sheet onto the mattress when his phone finally went off. It was sort of interesting to think that he'd left an android speechless, even for a little bit, but Slaine shook his head. He'd already decided to treat Inaho like any other human, but that would make the situation harder to explain to Klancain, when the time came.

He intentionally let the new ringtone play for a bit, so that Inaho could hear it, and give either his approval or disapproval.

 _'Made of plastic and elastic  
He is rugged and long-lasting,  
Who could ever ever ask for more  
Love without complications galore'_

"Better?" Slaine asked, as he fished out his phone, and took a look at the message.

 _Thank you for changing the ringtone. I have located a few possibilities. The ideal one is overpriced, so I have not included it on the list. When your brother returns, it would be best if you hid me. An attic would be an ideal location._

Slaine frowned at the last statement, and looked over at Inaho. It was an entirely useless gesture, but it felt necessary at the very least. "Inaho I'm not going hi-" The phone went off again. Blinking, Slaine looked back down at the mobile in his hand.

 _Thank you, Slaine. You are very kind._

He blinked at the text for a few moments, before shaking his head. He didn't think he'd ever get used to how directly Inaho said things. "As I was saying, I'm not going to hide you." Slaine moved back to the bed, spreading out the sheet, and tucking it in as he spoke. "You are illegal, so we'll have to hide THAT part, but I've been thinking of some ways around that."

When he'd made the sheets look presentable, Slaine nodded to himself, before heading out of the room toward the hall closet again. "And go ahead and put the more expensive one on the list for me to look at. I'm fixing you for the long term. If buying more expensive parts is how that needs to be done, we'll figure that out."

He looked over the various comforters and quilts and blankets that they had stored in the closet, then scrunched up his face. "Inaho, do you get cold?" Slaine shook his head at the thought, and moved back into Inaho's new bedroom. His eyes lingered on the android a few more seconds, before he sat down on the bed.

Again, it was probably useless, since Inaho wouldn't even notice, but he felt like what he was going to say next, should be said face to face. "You don't need to keep thanking me, Inaho. You've obviously been abandoned, and neglected, and you have feelings, so of course that would hurt you. I didn't really realize I was 'adopting' you, when I bought you, because I didn't expect you to be as human as you are. But, you don't have to keep thanking me so much, or complimenting me. I'm just doing what any decent person should."

Slaine sat in silence for a long time after that. He had expected Inaho to answer back quickly, at least to the other comments, but no reply was forth coming. Slaine checked his phone a few times to see if the sound just hadn't gone off, but there were no new messages. After almost ten minutes, Slaine got up from sitting on the bed, and padded over to Inaho. "Are you okay in there?" He gently ran his hand over Inaho's forehead, which was really very silly of him, but Slaine reminded himself that he was treating Inaho like a human. Human contact was a good way of showing concern. Even if Inaho couldn't feel it now, he would at some point, if Slaine had any say about it.

His phone did eventually go off, and he pulled his hand away from the cold flesh of Inaho's face to check it.

 _I get very cold._

Slaine smiled at the answer, and looked over at Inaho for a few seconds, before turning back towards the exit of the room, and heading back towards the hall closet. "We can fix that then. I'll get you a nice warm comforter, and if that isn't enough, we'll put a quilt on top." Slaine reached for the big red, plush comforter and headed back towards Inaho's new room. The phone went off again as Slaine deposited the comforter on the bed, and he reached down for it again.

 _I will try not to thank you so often, but thank you Slaine. Thank you very much. You are a very kind person._


	7. Chapter 7

"There we go. Now that you're all wrapped up, you shouldn't get too cold."

Slaine had never really tucked anyone into bed before (except for maybe a few times when Klancain was sick, but that was definitely it) but he figured he hadn't done such a bad job of it. Inaho was bundled up in a combination of the peach sheets, and the bright red comforter, his head and neck the only things poking out of the bedding. In fact, Inaho almost looked content in his little cocoon of blankets. Slaine figured that was probably the association talking, since Inaho had thus far been incapable of making facial expressions. Still, it was enough to make himself rather pleased. He was sure he had a nice, warm, happy android house guest, and it was a nice feeling.

Just at that moment, his phone buzzed and started singing at him. Inaho was ready to agree with him, mostly likely. Or to thank him. It wouldn't be bad thing to be thanked for his efforts, but he'd already told Inaho to stop trying to appease him so much, so he hoped Inaho's meaning said thank you, without actually saying it. He wanted the intent, not the words, which seemed silly coming from a text message, since there was no obvious emotion behind texts, but Inaho had surprised him already at his ability to express himself without body language or facial expressions. It likely had to do a lot with just how plainly he stated things. Slaine figured that was for the best. He wondered idly if it was just Inaho's way or if he was used to being misunderstood. Either seemed like a viable reason.

He looked over Inaho once more, before nodding his head, and wandering over to the tea table, where he'd set his phone down when he'd started moving, and arranging Inaho in the bed. He took a seat in the plush chair Inaho had been residing in not too long ago, and unlocked his phone.

 _I am much warmer. The phone's battery is low._

Slaine could almost hear -which was silly since it was all text- a quiet 'thank you' after the first statement, and he found himself very satisfied at the thought. He looked back over at Inaho, focusing on the android for a few seconds, before shifting his gaze to the phone connected to the back of Inaho's neck with a thin cable. It indeed was flashing in distress.

"That's okay. It's about time I look at that list of yours anyway. I'll unplug the phone and connect you to the lap top instead. We'll charge the phone while I look over the list." Slaine hoisted himself off of the comfortable plush chair - why had he moved this out of his room again? - and headed to the door. On his way there, he heard the shrill beep of the washing machine in the laundry room, as it finished the washing cycle.

His mind latched onto that fact, and Slaine quickly doubled back for the pile of old dusty clothes he'd taken off of Inaho before putting him in the bed. It seemed rather appropriate to simply toss, or donate the clothes that he'd bought Inaho in; they were old, gaudy, and cheaply made, but there was a chance that Inaho had placed some form of value on them. Slaine wouldn't get rid of them until Inaho could see them for himself, and decide if he wanted to keep them, or get rid of them. They were his, so that only seemed fair. He'd already planned to wash them, so it was just convenient that the previous load of laundry had finished.

If Slaine was being honest, he hoped Inaho did decide to get rid of them. The android looked much, much better in the over sized sweater that Slaine had dug out of his closet. It made Inaho look more normal, more like a student, or just a sleepy teenager. It would be easy to picture him sleeping off study woes in a library somewhere, and that was a very nice thought. The gaudy blue outfit Slaine had found him in made him look more like a circus attraction, or a doll, which Slaine found to be a rather upsetting thought. He really did hope that Inaho decided to get rid of the clothes.

"I'll be in the laundry room. It isn't too far away, and I'll leave the doors open. You should be able to hear me." Slaine explained, as he picked up the old, musty smelling clothes, and wandered out of the bed room.

He quickly went about unloading the sheets into the dryer, and shoving the washer full of the unsavory blues he'd purchase Inaho in. During the summer, he preferred to dry the washing on the drying rack in the back yard, but it was winter, and despite being quite a sunny, pleasant day for winter, using the dryer was best in that instant. He didn't want to freak out Inaho more than necessary by just walking out the door.

Once he had started up both the washer and the dryer, he ambled back towards the guest room, but Tharsis caught him before he entered. From her cage at the end of the hall, she chirped at him in greeting, and he changed his course to go and meet her.

"Tharsis" he called, and she trilled back at him happily, before fluttering over to land on his shoulder and nibble on his ear affectionately. He reached up and pet her head with a few of his fingers, and hurried back into the guest bed room. Inaho's room, he reminded himself. Tharsis sang for him in obvious contentment.

"Inaho, I need to get the laptop from the kitchen. Now, before you say anything, Tharsis and I will sing, so that you should be able to hear us. Klancain complains about it all the time in the morning, and his room is right across from yours. You should be able to hear us fine." Slaine knew he should have given Inaho time to respond, but instead, he swiftly slipped back out into the hallway. Tharsis was already humming and singing one of her favorite songs, and he loudly joined her.

As he traveled down the hallway, he could hear his phone go off from Inaho's new room, but he ignored it. He'd have to take baby steps with this whole 'hear you breathing' thing, until he could wean Inaho off of it entirely. It was born out of insecurity, and Slaine intended to make that less of an issue. For now, doing what he said he would do, and pushing boundaries just a smidge seemed like the ideal choice for the moment.

His laptop was right where he'd left it on the kitchen table, and he quickly grabbed it, and headed back to the bed room. Once he was in the room, he stopped singing - to Tharsis's slight irritation - and 'Hm'd to himself. "Okay, now was that so bad?" Slaine asked as he reentered Inaho's new room. He went about placing the laptop on the bedside table, and then went for his own phone, still sitting forlorn on the little tea table. Tharsis chirped as he sat down in the plush chair by the tea table, and flew over to Inaho, perching on top of his head. He was exceptionally happy to have found an eye patch from an old Halloween costume, because as he watched Tharsis, she inspected the black patch, then quickly dismissed it entirely. No more sticking her head in Inaho's eye socket, he thought to himself with satisfaction. One more small issue resolved!

His phone rang at that moment, and he shook his head away from the image of Tharsis on Inaho's head, and looked down at the new message.

 _It was satisfactory. I could hear you. Please tell Tharsis hello. Is she playing with the eye patch? The phone battery is low._

Slaine nodded in satisfaction at the message, and looked up at Inaho again. All this unnecessary eye contact was really silly, he thought, but there wasn't any harm in it either. "Inaho says Hello, Tharsis."

The white parakeet looked up at him in confusion, but none the less offered an enthusiastic "Hello!" back, before focusing her attention back onto Inaho. Slaine chuckled at her puzzlement, then looked back down at his phone again before answering Inaho's other inquiries.

"She isn't. Playing with the eye patch, I mean. She isn't playing with it. She's leaving it alone, and playing with your hair. I think she's trying to clean it, actually. It needs a good wash if I'm being honest. Calm wiped you down pretty well, so you aren't dusty or dingy, but your hair could do with a good washing." He looked over at the pair, and watched as Tharsis methodically went through Inaho's brown locks. It was a really cute image and he couldn't help but smile at it. "She's definitely preening you." He stated with a chuckle. Tharsis was usually very picky about new things or people, but she had taken right to Inaho from the start. Slaine wondered if that would still be the case when he got Inaho moving. She had to realize Inaho was human, or something like a human, even if he couldn't move. Maybe she thought he was sick, or even dead. The thought was both heartwarming, and strangely morbid. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to imagine how things worked in Tharsis's mind.

He let the thought go, and took a moment to look at the message Inaho had sent before Slaine had returned to the room. Slaine found himself smiling at that too. Instead of questioning or needing reassurance, all Inaho had sent was a simple,

 _Please hurry back._

Maybe he was making more progress than he'd originally thought.

With both messages read, Tharsis mothering on Inaho's hair, and the laptop secured from the clutches of the distant kitchen, Slaine placed his phone on the tea table, and hoisted himself out of the very comfortable chair. Absentmindedly he thought it was a pretty good thing Inaho was in here now, because he'd get to sit in that chair a lot more. Dismissing the thought as entirely trivial, Slaine walked over to the bed and sat down. He then proceeded to boot up the computer, disconnecting the cell phone, and hooking Inaho up to the laptop instead.

Slaine then grabbed the phone charger and went about plugging the thing in so that it could charge while they worked on the computer. Once that was done, he wandered back to the bed and sat down again.

By that point, the laptop was already up and running. Inaho's familiar chat window was already open, and to the side of it was a document full of links to various online retailers.

He thought about just charging forward, but decided that now was as good a time as any to bring up a subject he was sure Inaho wasn't going to like, but it was one Slaine knew he couldn't avoid for much longer. "Inaho, I've thought it over, and I think it would be a really good idea if we let Calm in on all of th-"

 _No._

The answer was immediate. Slaine frowned at being cut off, and was about to protest when a belated

 _Please_

popped up on the screen.

Slaine's frown turned more into a look of concern, and he took a few moments to compose what he had been planning to say, before speaking. "Inaho, hear me out first. Calm is a good guy, and he'd go gaga over you once he realized how human you are. I'm sure you're anxious, because he was going to have you taken away, but he provided the cord that is letting us communicate now. He's already helped us, and given you your voice back. I think it's a good idea to involve him."

 _Why?_

Slaine blinked at the screen for a few seconds. "I just said why, I think he's trustwo-"

 _No._

 _Why are you involving a third party in this?_

 _It is safer to only involve you and me._

 _I want to understand your motives for jeopardizing my safety._

 _I am not even comfortable with you informing your kin of my circumstances._

 _I am not comfortable informing a person who would have disposed of me had you not stopped him._

 _The only thing that saved me from death was my lack of a barcode and you._

 _I am not comfortable jeopardizing my safety over your expectation that most humans are good and decent._

 _Why?_

Slaine recoiled as if he'd been struck. Tharsis was quickly at his side, landing effortlessly on his shoulder, and nuzzling at his cheek. She could always tell better than anyone when he was upset or distressed. He whistled to calm her down, but it wasn't only for her sake. He read over the statements again, and winced at how emotional it felt. He'd asked Inaho to be more honest with him, and less reverent, but he hadn't expected such a strong dismissal. Even still, he was glad that Inaho had been willing to say exactly what was on his mind, even if it stung to see it.

It was a good thing he was getting a clearer image of Inaho's personality and the insecurities that shaped his clingy behavior, but that didn't make answering Inaho's concerns any easier. He figured he would also have to be frank.

"Inaho, I can't say that I understand the depth of your concerns, but I do understand that you are afraid. Once you can move on your own, this won't be as much of a problem, but if I died tomorrow, you would be alone again, and I would have been unable to keep my promise to you. I promised to fix you, and if I'm unable to do that, I want to leave you with someone who can. Calm is someone I know. I've known him for two years now, and I know he can fix you if anything happened to me. This is a sort of insurance, Inaho. It would be irresponsible of me to let you be abandoned should something happen to me."

Slaine's mind wandered to unpleasant memories for a few moments before he continued, deciding that if he expected Inaho to be honest, he also had to do the same. It wasn't easy, but it was only fair. "My father died very suddenly when I was young. He hadn't set up anything for me, and I was shuffled around from place to place for a few years after that. Those years were the worst of my life. I don't resent my father for not planning for something like that, but I wish he would have at least made some preparations for me. I can't imagine how you've dealt with abandonment. Your situation is so much worse than mine ever was, and I didn't handle mine well at all. I want to give you some security that you will be cared for until you can manage on your own. If you have a better option, I'll listen."

He fought through his hesitation to say all that. Every word had felt like a struggle, because he was admitting his own faults and weaknesses. It was not fun to relive those days of feeling like he didn't belong anywhere, of what he now knew was abandonment. He didn't think of it often. Slaine put it out of his head the majority of the time, and completely ignored it. Or, as well as he could. It was difficult to just let it all out, but he was also proud that he had been able to. It wasn't easy, and he'd done it. He was strangely proud of himself.

It took Inaho a long time to respond. Slaine took that as a sign that he had again left Inaho speechless, it seemed like a good sign. When Inaho did answer, it was nothing like what Slaine had expected.

 _You are not telling me something._

 _It is uncharacteristic for a human of your age to be thinking rationally of his own passing._

 _Even given your history, I find it bizarre._

 _Moreover, I told you that my basic motor functions will easily return once I have a replacement power supply._

 _It will take longer to ship than to install, thus my motor skills will be repaired quickly, and contacting Calm would be unnecessary._

 _Despite having this information, you are preparing for the case of your death._

 _Figuring in how much average shipping time lasts, you are anticipating it within the next few days to weeks._

 _You have a rational concern of dying in the immediate future, but are too young for such concerns._

 _Your statements, though heartfelt and sincere, are evasive._

 _What are you not telling me?_

Slaine found himself staring at the screen in bold faced disbelief and growing anger. This was not how people reacted when they were told a painful part of a person's past. He had finally been able to say how difficult his situation had been, only for Inaho to coldly call him a liar and to say nothing even slightly sympathetic or understanding. He felt like an idiot; used and violated. He had just bared his soul, and Inaho had told him it wasn't enough, hadn't even had the decency to give him sympathy. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair. This was not normal human behavior, and the angry part of him screamed that he was not dealing with a human; he was dealing with a machine. A machine that had manipulated itself into his home, his life, and into thinking that it actually had human emotions, only to coldly call him a liar and demand more when he presented his own weaknesses in an attempt to console.

He wanted to leave. He wanted to walk right out the front door, and not come back for a few days, maybe a week. Slaine knew it was petty, spiteful and cruel, but the thought of hurting the machine was very satisfying. As it stood, Slaine felt utterly violated. He'd welcomed this machine into his home, decided to trust it against his better judgment, and now his feelings and concerns had been completely ignored. The thought fueled his anger.

Slaine sat there in absolute silence for a long time, doing his best not to lose it, not to scream or cry or get to his feet so that he could throw things or run away. None of that would solve anything, even if they made him feel safer, even if they made his emotions less painful. Tharsis stayed on his shoulder, reaching over to peck his lip in affection, and to play with his hair in an attempt to calm him down. He thought of her and it helped. Even if Inaho didn't care, at least someone did. He reached over and pet her head, and snuggled his cheek closer to her. She responded in kind, and he took all the time he needed with her to calm down at least a little.

Inaho did not respond in that time. Slaine figured it was better. He almost wanted to disconnect the cord so that Inaho couldn't speak to him at all, but that was cruel, and he didn't want to be a cruel person. When he did feel comfortable talking, after a long silence had followed, Slaine figured he had best state his feelings as plainly as possible, if Inaho was going to understand any of it. He made sure his voice was level, low, and angry. "I am very angry with you."

Inaho's answer was swift.

 _Because I am right._

Whatever calm he had gained, shattered in that moment, and he was on his feet, Tharsis fluttering away from him, and onto the dresser. "Because you are insensitive! I was trying to relate to you!" He was going to walk away. He was going to regret it, and come back sooner than he should, but he was going to go. Inaho answered faster than he moved.

 _How is my concern for your well being insensitive?_

 _You have successfully related to me, but these are not mitigating factors._

 _I am concerned about your abnormal fatalistic tendencies._

 _I am hooked up to your computer._

 _A search of your internet history will easily provide me the answer I seek._

 _I am asking you first._

 _Please tell me what is wrong, Slai-_

He couldn't take it. Slaine ripped the cord out of Inaho's neck, and the menu disappeared instantly. "You only care because I'm fixing you, and because I'm dumb enough not to have gotten rid of you when I should have!"

Even in his anger, he regretted the action. He'd wanted Inaho to shut up, for him to just admit that he had been wrong, and acknowledge that Inaho had hurt him, but this wasn't the way to do it. Forcefully silencing him wasn't the answer. Tears rolled down Slaine's face, as he padded over to the charging cell phone, and unplugged it. Sniffling, he unplugged the cord from his laptop, and attached the cell phone to Inaho's outlet. This way, Inaho could say all he wanted, but Slaine didn't have to listen.

His cell phone rang instantly, 'Coin-Operated Boy' echoing in the room to taunt him for being such a fool, and it seemed disgustingly appropriate. He tried his best to ignore it, and was thankful that the surge in emotions made him exceedingly tired. Bonelessly he slumped down to the floor, his back leaning against the bed. He couldn't stop crying, what an idiot he was. He pulled up his knees, buried his head in them, and wrapped his arms around himself.

Tharsis fluttered over to him, and played with his hair, trying to console him, but it was no use. He didn't even want her to see him. "Tharsis, nest." He managed to force the words out around the shaking of his shoulders. She hesitated for a long time before dutifully doing as he had asked, and flying out of the room.

He sat there for a long time, crying like an idiot, and trying not to sound too pathetic. Some vindictive part of him wanted Inaho to hear how much he'd been hurt, but he knew that part of him would pass. Eventually, he fell asleep to the repeated sound of 'Coin-Operated Boy' as his phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing.


	8. Chapter 8

When Slaine woke, it was to the feeling of a beak carefully sorting through his hair. His eyes still hurt, and as he blinked them open, he could feel lingering sleep and tears caked on his eyelashes and cheeks. He still felt miserable, and the crick in his back from sleeping sitting up was not helping. Even though he'd slept, it felt more like he'd passed out, and that it hadn't really helped at all, but that wasn't entirely true either. Instead of the raging emotions he'd had before he fell asleep, now, Slaine felt rather hollow. It was as if all his emotions had gone rushing out of him, and might never return.

He reached out his finger, and Tharsis hopped onto it. He brought her up to his face, and she gave him a peck on the lips. "Sorry, Tharsis." Slaine mumbled half heartedly. It wasn't really fair, since he'd upset her in the process, but he knew she wasn't unhappy with him. Just worried. He felt bad about that, but the hollowness, the lack of feeling didn't go away. She pecked him on the lips once more, before fluttering back to his shoulder, and going back to preening his hair. Slaine sighed, and thought about just sinking back into sleep, but he knew it was a childish thought. He couldn't just avoid his problems by sleeping them away.

With resignation, Slaine rose to his feet, stretching out his back as he did, and trying to get it to hurt a little less. He felt old, and stupid.

A second later, his eyes fell on the immobile body on the bed. Inaho was bundled up in the blankets, just as he had been before. He still looked like he was asleep. Even after an argument like that, he hadn't moved. Of course he didn't. He couldn't. If Slaine didn't fix him, he might never. Not fix, Slaine reminded himself, help. You fixed machines, you helped people, and even if he was still upset in a hollow, dejected sort of way, Inaho was still a person. It had been a mistake to think of him as anything else. He had emotions, and fears, and an array of issues and insecurities that only happened in thinking, feeling individuals. Even manipulation was a sign of intent and intelligence, two things robots and machines didn't have.

Slaine wasn't sure if he was making the right choice, but he'd already made it, and he wasn't going to back out of it just because Inaho had been mean to him. Humans hurt one another all the time, sometimes intentionally, and sometimes not intentionally. He'd asked for Inaho to treat him more honestly, any repercussions were his own. If he hadn't wanted to deal with the mental instability of a creature that had been made to kill, abandoned for probably over twenty years, and used manipulative social skills to survive because no one else would help it, then he shouldn't have let Inaho know that he could be himself. And even if it hurt, ignoring these things was not the answer either. Slaine knew that.

There was no denying the sense of being overwhelmed, of biting off so much more than he could chew. Would he really help Inaho? Could he help Inaho? Slaine wasn't sure. He could get him up and running again, but there were scars there much deeper than the obvious damage. Had those mistreatments bred resentment as well as mistrust? Slaine didn't know, but he wanted to believe that Inaho was inherently good. He didn't want to think that he'd been tricked, so he put those thoughts aside, and once again hoped that whatever the consequences, he would bear them alone.

He sat down on the bed next to Inaho's immobile form, and slowly reached over to his face. He carded his fingers through dirty brown hair, and lifted up the silly pirate eye patch he'd placed over Inaho's gaping hole, where an eye had once been. Cruelty, he reminded himself. Inaho likely knew the extent of human cruelty, as well as all the other injustices and abuses in his life. It was just one more sad thing to add to Inaho's list of ailments. Slaine could only speculate, but it was probably a wonder that Inaho was able to be as tender as he was, as caring as he was. Even if it was an act, some of it had to be real. It also meant that he knew what kindness looked like. Someone at some point had been kind to him, and that person was now gone.

Inaho had hurt him, there was the creeping emptiness that refused to go away, that feeling that he was and always would be, a fool. In the end, it didn't matter, and he would deal with it just as he'd always dealt with anything else that had hurt him in this way. He would lock it in a box, and keep it hidden away, would ignore, and try to forgive it. Besides, he had the ability to forgive, Inaho had no choice in the matter. Inaho was at his mercy, and Slaine thought that maybe, he always had been at the mercy of other, more selfish humans that sought to use him, or to profit off of him. That wasn't fair.

"I'm sorry, Inaho." His voice was hollow, but he found that it wasn't just a throw away statement. It encompassed all the hurts that Inaho had likely felt, of the abandonment, of the helplessness that had probably been a constant companion for most of his life. It was also for himself, for saying such cruel things. Inaho had hurt him, but as the android had said, it was out of concern. It still hurt, but it made it easier to handle. "I over reacted." Even if Slaine didn't think he'd been wrong, he could admit that much. He wished he had handled that better. It hadn't been right to just ignore Inaho, or prevent him from speaking, when it was all he could do. His emotions often got the better of him. No matter how he wished his feelings could be better controlled, they often got away from him, and there was little he could do.

He reached his hand up to Tharsis, still diligently working on his hair and the bird effortlessly jumped onto his extended fingers. He then led the bird to Inaho, and seeming to know what he wanted her to do, Tharsis hopped off, and started playing with Inaho's hair instead.

Slaine then reached for the phone that was connected to Inaho's neck. He tapped on it a few times, but it's screen remained dark, and unresponsive. Slaine grimaced. He unplugged the phone, and moved off of the bed to connect it to the charger.

He then looked over at his own phone, sitting quiet and ominous on the tea table. Inaho had been trying to reach him furiously when he'd fallen asleep. So much so that he hadn't conserved the battery life of his only connection to the outside world. Slaine was afraid to sit down and read through those messages, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Inaho had to sit there and listen to him cry, and had been unable to do anything at all, and Slaine had done that intentionally to hurt him. It had been horribly unkind, and the guilt was already enough to make him regret the whole situation. Oh how he wished he handled these emotional hurts with the same sort of stoicism that Klancain did.

He crossed the distance between himself and the phone, sitting ominously on the tea table, and reached down to pluck it up, as if it would burn him. It did not of course, because that was stupid, and so was he.

Slaine took a deep breath before he unlocked the phones screen, and saw an astounding number of messages waiting for him. He softly padded back over to the bed, and sat down. He held his phone with one hand, and reached for Inaho with the other, but there wasn't a whole lot of him outside of the bundle of blankets, just his head and neck. Slaine hesitated on what he should do, he felt like some form of physical contact was necessary, that he could only show his sincerity in this way, but eventually, he decided that it was just another of many stupid ideas on his part, and he let his hand fall down onto the side of the bed.

Instead, he did something even stupider, and laid back, so that his head was on Inaho's chest, separated by the bundled blankets. He thought of how wrong this was, how Inaho probably didn't want anything to do with him anymore, how he wouldn't want to be tied to some emotionally haywire individual, how Inaho had no option of pushing him away. Those thoughts hurt, but Slaine swallowed that hurt down, and let it fester out of sight. When Inaho could move on his own, he would accept any judgment he deemed necessary, and any prerequisite Inaho required, he would have. Slaine wanted to be part of the solution, not just another one of the litany of problems that had plagued Inaho's life. At this point, he wasn't sure if he could do that.

He started the very long process, of sorting through Inaho's scattered, panicked, despondent, and resigned messages.

\/

 _I have broken my promise not to hurt you. I will accept any fate you deem necessary._

Of the litany of apologies, pleas and comments of general concern that inhabited his inbox, this one stood out to Slaine the most. It was one of the last that Inaho had sent, thus one of the first he'd read, but through all the other messages, it stuck with him. As Slaine finished looking through them all, softly crying to himself, he returned to that message, and read it five more times. It was made worse, by the lack of sound in Inaho's chest. No heart beat in the body under him.

He turned his head into the blankets, and used them to wipe his face. "I'm sorry Inaho. I'm so sorry. Please believe me when I say, that I will never choose to abandon you." Obviously, Inaho couldn't respond. Slaine held every facet of Inaho's life in the palm of his hand, and he'd mistreated it.

He took a few more shallow breaths, before pulling himself up, and reaching for the cord still attached to Inaho's neck. His laptop still sat silently on the bedside table, and Slaine reattached the cord, knowing full well that it was very likely that Inaho would make good on his earlier threat of checking his internet history. At this point, Slaine figured he'd be lucky if Inaho did only that. A much more vengeful thing would do a hell of a lot more, but Slaine wanted to trust that Inaho was not that kind of person.

The computer came to life quickly, and the familiar chat window came up. For several minutes, Slaine stared at it, not sure what he expected to happen. It remained empty for a very long time. When Slaine couldn't bear the silence anymore, he spoke. How horrible it must have been for Inaho to be ignored like this, for so very long. "Inaho, I'm so sorry. You can keep ignoring me, if it makes you feel better. It's okay." He swallowed down the lump in his throat, and kept the tears in his eyes as silent as he could. "If you want me to leave, tell me, and I'll go."

The answer was instantaneous.

 _Stay._

There was a pause, and then another submission appeared across the screen.

 _Please don't leave, Slaine._

Slaine shook his head. "I'll stay as long as you want, Inaho."

 _Please put your head back on my chest._

 _I can almost feel your heart beat when you are so close._

Slaine bit his bottom lip as he read the comment, before nodding to himself, and complying. He gently laid himself back down onto the expanse of Inaho's chest, the blanket nestled between them. He laid there a very long time, his eyes blinking open every now and then, looking over at the computer screen, only to see that Inaho had chosen to remain quiet. Slaine didn't know what to make of it, but he let it filter in, and out of his mind, until he had the courage to say what he needed to say.

"Inaho, you already know that you're right, don't you?" Slaine blinked his eyes open, expecting some sort of response to come to life on the screen. None did. After about five minutes, he went on. " Maybe, this close, you can even feel it. There's something wrong with my heart." Slaine paused, and closed his eyes. He moved his hand, so that it was close to his chest, so that he cold more intimately feel the beating of his own heart and continued. "I've always had it, but recently, it became more of a problem. Right now, it's more dangerous than it was before. In three days, I'll have a procedure done, to help solve the problem. Everything should go smoothly, it's a simple procedure, but-" He buried his face into the blankets encasing Inaho's chest, as if he could hide, and gripped the sheets, and the figure below him almost desperately. "I'm scared."

He really was an idiot. He should have kept this locked away with everything else, every insecurity, every emotional hurt, and every stroke of horrid luck in his life. But Slaine had chosen not to. There was no question that he was an utter fool.

"My father had this, this problem. He had it his whole life, but, just like me, it got worse. He had this same procedure too, but it didn't work. The only other option was surgery, but it didn't work either." Slaine thought of hospital rooms, a doctor with a stone face and sorry eyes, placing a hand on his father's chest, and feeling nothing, the hand on his own chest as the organ inside it pumped blood throughout him. "He died."

He didn't know if Inaho responded. Slaine couldn't pry his eyes open. A weariness that had always reminded him of death had set in, and it seemed impossible to do anything, but keep talking. "For years, I had nightmares. Nightmares of falling asleep, and not waking up. Nightmares of dying like my father. For years, and years, I hid all of that away, denied that it scared me, ran from it at every turn. Now, it really has caught up with me." He shook his head softly, as if he could keep denying it, but he was tired.

"I've never admitted it to anyone, Inaho." Sleep was settling in on him again, eating away at his awareness, and making mush of his weary mind. Tears were welling in his eyes, and he could feel them, as they fled down the side of his face, to be absorbed into the soft fabric of the comforter beneath him. It was all so distant, he felt fuzzy and disconnected with all of it. He imagined he could hear a beating under his head, an even thump thump thump, of another living being there with him, there feeling with him. "I'm scared." he mumbled, gripping the figure beneath him, before sleep took him completely, and his body went slack, and unresponsive. But even in sleep, his grip didn't loosen; one hand remained firmly planted on his own chest, and the other fisted in the sheets, and the cold flesh below it.

By the time morning came, and Slaine woke, Inaho's reply would be long gone.


	9. Chapter 9

In the morning, Slaine woke to the soft sound of music. It was a strange thing, since he was always the first one awake, except for maybe Tharsis some mornings. But quite obviously their adorable pet parakeet was not going to have music wafting through the air, unless she was singing it, and this music certainly wasn't birdsongs. It was the dulcet sound of strings and pianos, in melodies he'd never heard before. It was nice, calming, and for a moment he considered simply sinking back into sleep, and letting himself drown in unawareness, but it didn't fit. It was soothing, but it was wrong.

Slowly, he pried his aching eyes open, wincing at the light, the sudden shift from darkness too much for his senses to easily handle. He eased his eyes closed, and gave them a small respite, before attempting again. This time, it still hurt, but the action was easier, and the world bled into existence and color. It took him a second to realize he was in the guest bedroom, three seconds to realize someone was beneath him, and five seconds to remember what had transpired, and why he was there at all. It all fell on him like an unexpected downpour, but he accepted it meekly, as one often does in half awareness. He'd really screwed up yesterday, there was no way around it. The thought made him squeeze his eyes shut, burry his head deeper into the blankets in shame, and shiver not only because of the cold morning air.

He took one deep breath, trying to calm himself down, opened his eyes again, and slowly lifted himself into a semi-upright position.

The sound of soft, gentle music came from the laptops small speakers. On its screen, he could see a video playing, of someone drawing something on the computer. He blinked in confusion for a few seconds, as simple lines morphed into shapes and curves and lips and a nose, and kind eyes. It was quick, and he thought how the video must be one of those sped up ones that he'd heard of. Slaine shook his head.

"Inaho?" Slaine had no idea how he had intended that to sound, but how it did sound was all wrong. It sounded wretched. As if he expected the android to reproach him, and was dreading the inevitable. It was probably safe to say that Inaho likely would do no such thing, but the hurt of the day before was still there, pulsing inside him, making him hesitate, even though he tried to ignore it.

At his utterance, the video stopped. It was only then, as the curser moved, and opened a blank canvas, that Slaine realized, it was not a video at all. In front of him, the curser wrote

 ** _Good morning, Slaine._**

in simple, stocky letters.

Slaine blinked in astonishment for far too long, before shaking his head, and answering in disbelief. "Morning, Inaho." The mouse clicked to another place on the screen.

 ** _I apologize for not waking you for dinner. Please have a nutritious breakfast this morning._**

"Uh" Slaine wrung his hands nervously. Were they going to ignore what happened yesterday? He was fine with that, but he wasn't sure how Inaho was processing this whole thing. Thinking, about this whole thing, Slaine corrected himself. "It's fine, don't worry about it..."

 ** _I have another request._**

"...Oh" Now was where Inaho was going to tell him how unreliable and temperamental he was, and say something callous about commitments and promises he might not be able to keep. He should have known better than to expect Inaho to just let it go and ignore it. He'd left himself completely vulnerable, and he only had himself to blame. If he had any brains at all, he would have just kept his mouth shut, but since Inaho's own fate was now linked with his own, it had only been fair. Still, Slaine was sure this would hurt, and he steeled himself for it. "What is it, Inaho?" The curser glided gracefully across the canvas, and wrote out another answer.

 _ **Please move me into the laundry room until your medical procedure.**_

It was not even remotely close to what Slaine had expected. "Uh...what?"

 ** _Move me into the laundry room until your medical procedure._**

This time, the curser seemed to take great care in making sure the letters were entirely legible, as if there had been some problem with recognizing them the first time. Slaine scrunched up his face. "I understood it, but I don't...understand." Slaine finished lamely, after searching for a better word, and coming up empty. "Why do you want that?"

 ** _The laundry room, from my understanding of the floor plan, is the most central location in the house. From there I should be able to hear you no matter where you go within the house. Heart conditions often come with a great risk of sudden cardiac arrest; it is not advisable for you to be alone. Short of contacting your adopted family, this gives you some small security. Should something happen, I can alert the proper authorities, and there is a chance of extending your life._**

"Oh" was the only sound that made it passed Slaine's lips. The stuttered 'don't worry about me' died before reaching his tongue, and all other possible answers seemed inadequate. He didn't know what to say. The dismissal of Inaho's worry was the most natural thing to put out there, he'd been saying things like that his whole life, but now with his own insecurities out in the open, it seemed rather pointless. He could diminish it as much as he'd liked but just the other day he'd said just how frightened it made him. It felt wrong not to relieve Inaho's obvious distress at the situation, but there wasn't anything he felt he could do that would matter. Being optimistic was hard when reality was glaring him in the face, and lying about it had become second nature. Now without both of those forced responses meaning anything, Slaine faltered.

For a long while, Slaine stayed quiet, his mind going in so many directions, that it was hard to track down. Eventually, he rose from the bed, and wandered over to the cell phone he'd left charging the night before. He unplugged it, and wandered back over to Inaho. "I'm going to disconnect you from the compute now, but you'll be connected to the phone again." In response, the cursor on the computer sprung to life.

 ** _Please give me a moment. May I save what I was doing?_**

Slaine nodded once, as if Inaho could actually see it. "Of course." He then watched as Inaho rapidly filtered through what must have been 30 different sketches, saving each in a special folder he'd made. Slaine watched in amazement, every sketch had been that of different people, all very distinct. Some were motion pieces, some with very detailed backgrounds, and others that were simple sketches of people's faces. It struck Slaine, that none of these people were the same. There was enough detail to easily tell that all of these sketches were different, individual people. It was amazing, to say the least. Inaho actually had a lot of talent. "You like drawing." Slaine stated, more as a dumb observation than anything else. Without answering, Inaho clicked off the music, and wrote a,

 ** _I'm ready now._**

in response.

Slaine then went to work disconnecting, and reconnecting Inaho, then retrieved his own phone and shoved it into his pocket. "As for your request," Slaine started, now that Inaho could respond to him. Gently, he unwrapped Inaho from the mounds of blankets, making sure not to mess with the cord connected to the phone. "I refuse." He reached down, and carefully arranged Inaho into his arms, so that he was carrying him bridal style, with the phone resting in his lap. Slaine heard his own phone sing out 'coin operated boy' but ignored it. "You'll stay with me." He then wandered out of Inaho's room, and headed for the kitchen. "Keeping you with me isn't hard Inaho, and it's better, right?"

Once he'd reached the kitchen, Slaine gently placed Inaho down onto one of the dining room chairs, and made sure that he looked comfortable. He then wandered over to the couch not too far away, and grabbed a blanket that had adorned it. He spread that across Inaho's shoulders, and tucked it into his sides to make sure that it wouldn't fall off him. "There we go. How is that? I know you said you get cold, so hopefully the blanket helps. It won't be as warm as the bed, but it should help a little." Slaine nodded to himself, and wandered over to the fridge, just as his phone went off again. Grabbing the milk, he closed the fridge, and fished out the phone to see what Inaho had said.

 _Lifting is bad for you, please reconsider._

Slaine lightly frowned at the message, before going about his regular preparation for cereal. "Other than this one thing, I'm healthy. If something goes wrong, you'll know, and you'll do what you can. Don't worry needlessly until then." And that was true enough. He often tried to put things out of his mind like that, telling himself that if something did happen, there would be nothing he could do about it. Sometimes it worked, and often it did not, but Inaho was more logical than he was. Perhaps this was something that would be easier for him.

His phone rang again. Slaine finished preparing his cereal, and placed the milk back into the fridge, before sitting down, and checking the phone.

 _I can do nothing. Care for yourself until I can._

The message gave him pause, and Slaine looked at it with a mixture of admiration and guilt. It was a strange feeling. Eventually, he placed the phone down, and stated eating in earnest. He didn't know what he should say to that. Finally, after a long silence, he muttered a soft reply, but as usual, all he could do was change the subject. "I'm sorry I didn't order any of your parts yesterday. I was supposed to." The answer was swift.

 _I took the time to eliminate ones that are not mandatory, and ones with shipping that will not arrive before your medical procedure. The list is small now, and should be easy to go over._

Slaine frowned at that answer. "You had a long list yesterday."

 _Until your procedure is complete, I only need a power supply. All other parts can wait._

Slaine couldn't help but feel like this sort of behavior was exactly why he hadn't told anyone about this. Didn't Inaho realize he'd committed to fixing him, not only because it was the right thing to do, but because it gave him another thing to distract himself from, a project that would be ready for him to return to when the whole procedure was over. But he couldn't very well just say that, so he kept eating his cereal, and answered a rather melancholy, "We'll get that today then."

\/

When he'd finished his breakfast, and washed the dishes, Slaine went about relocating Inaho again. He heard his phone going off, and imagined it singing in protest. He ignored it. He hadn't wanted to be treated as breakable before, and that certainly hadn't changed now. Besides, Inaho was not heavy.

On his way down the hallway, Tharsis chirped at him from her cage, and he whistled back at her, but the bird did not fly over to greet him. She stayed nestled in her cage. Slaine shrugged it off, and continued into Inaho's bed room. He settled Inaho down into the bed, wrapped him up, then connected him back to the lap top before checking his phone.

 _Lifting is bad for you, please reconsider._

He had guessed that would be the message, and he had been quite right. He shook his head, and turned to the computer, which Inaho was now manning. "The list of parts?" Slaine asked, and the curser sprung to life, bringing up a document with considerably less links than he remembers from the day before. Slaine frowned, but shook his head to dismiss the thoughts. "This is a lot shorter, Inaho."

A small canvas popped up on the side of the computer so that Slaine could still easily see the list of three links.

 ** _I have narrowed our options down to these three._**

The curser clicked on the top of the three, and a web page opened up. To Slaine's surprise, the image in front of him was one he recognized. "Wait, Inaho I've seen these. They aren't common, but I've seen them in antique stores from time to time." Slaine scrunched up his face in thought. "There are a lot of antique stores in town. I should be able to find one of these today. That would make this whole process a lot faster, right? You wouldn't have to wait for it to be shipped."

 ** _Please be wary of counterfeit items._**

Inaho answered. But Slaine shook his head. "If I go to these places, and take pictures of what they have, and send them to you, will you be able to tell if it's counterfeit?"

 ** _Yes_**

Was Inaho's simple response. Slaine beamed. "In that case, we might have you moving again by this evening, Inaho. Then you won't have to worry about the laundry room, or me. If something goes wrong, you can leave yourself." Slaine knew that he was probably being too optimistic, but he couldn't help it. It felt like some great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Should something happen to him, Inaho would be able to escape detection on his own. They wouldn't have to contact Calm, or move Inaho into the dingy laundry room. Slaine let himself get hopeful over it, even though it seemed too good to be true.


	10. Chapter 10

Slaine meandered towards about the seventh antique store that day, with low expectations, and a rather defeated sense of self worth. This had certainly been a wild goose chase, and he was likely going to return to the apartment without anything to show for his efforts. The thought was distressing, and Slaine let out a defeated little sigh, before opening the door, and truly wandering into the next antique store.

As he stepped into the heated threshold of the store from the cold of the winter evening, an exuberant "Welcome!" from his right came to greet him. Sheepishly he looked over to answer the kind statement, and froze.

The android in front of him smiled.

He'd seen androids before plenty of times in the past. They weren't all that common, but neither were they rare. Kids seemed to like them the most, and he vaguely remembered looking at one through a shop window when he'd been small, before his father had called him away. He remembered that model in his memory, had been rather human like, with only a few obvious distinctions to make it stand out as an android. When he'd asked, his father had explained that the older models looked more human, but that no one wanted an android that looked like a human, so that newer ones didn't look much like humans at all. His father had also mentioned that the one he'd been looking at had been older, and that the newer models didn't look very human. Slaine remembered that conversation surprisingly well every time he saw an android, the booming sound of his father's voice coming to his ears unbidden.

Even then, he'd liked the one that looked more human. The other ones had seemed scarier, more like mechanical monsters, even though he'd never been mistreated by one. But, he'd been a rather frightened child, all high nerves and jittery tension. It had taken a decent amount of work to get out of that mindset. Now that he was looking at the very modern android in front of him, that old fear bubbled up like fizzy water, before rapidly going flat. He had nothing to fear, and he rationally knew that.

It was hard to compare the thing in front of him, to Inaho. Properly repaired, Inaho would look indistinguishable from average humans. The only thing that might make people question would be the red eye color, but they could just say they were colored contacts, and leave it at that. Inaho would likely be able to walk down the street, without anyone suspecting he was an android at all. The figure in front of him never would. Comparing them, even slightly, was proving very difficult.

It was humanoid in shape, but very little else was similar. It waved at him with it's four long fingers, on a ball jointed wrist, elbow and shoulder; the same sort of joints that were obvious from just about every part of it that moved, and though the joints didn't seem to hinder any sort of movement, it gave the android an obvious sort of mechanical motion to how it moved. It made even simple gestures seem unnatural, and Slaine wondered if Inaho would move that way, or if his movements would be far more seamless. Since he'd never seen Inaho move, he couldn't be sure, but something in his gut told him that Inaho would move more like a human than a robot.

There was no nose on the android's face, the place where it should have been strangely barren, and unnatural looking. There wasn't even a bump to suggest a nose, just a flat plain between the android's eyes and lips. As it said "How may I help you?" in a cheerful, animated tone, Slaine noticed that it's lips didn't open or close. They stayed in their perpetual smile, and instead, the sound came from a black bland like speaker situated on the android's neck. He guessed the lips were only there to give it more obvious human emotions, and make it easier to relate to; accessory instead of functional. As Slaine studied it, there were also no ears poking out of well manicured black hair. He wondered if some sort of small microphone was somewhere picking up auditory sounds instead of ears, but he dismissed the thought. Unnaturally purple eyes, peering at him from the smiling face, seemed to zoom in on him, like a camera's lens, and he sheepishly smiled back at the android.

There was really no comparing this machine to Inaho. Well, he amended, there was really no comparing this machine to Inaho physically. Now that he thought of it, he hadn't spent any length of time interacting with normal every day androids. He'd always thought of them as simply responsive computers, which he knew quite a bit about. So, it had been a drastic surprise when Inaho showed an obvious personality and other manifestations of self awareness. Did other androids also have that sort of awareness? He seriously doubted it. In his mind, Inaho was unique, something special and worth helping and protecting should it be necessary, but had he really done any research to prove that point? The answer was no. He'd read some of the manuals Calm had given him, but nowhere in them had they mentioned anything reaching the level of awareness Inaho had. Still, his only knowledge was through books, now was a perfect chance to test his theory.

As he gazed at the android, taking in all of it's bizarre features, he wondered why newer models looked so much like machines. His father had simply said that no one wanted an android that looked like a human, but was that really true? If it was, certainly a human like android would at least be an option, and he hadn't ever heard of something like that. For all he knew, there were androids that looked exactly like humans wandering around, completely camouflaged. The thought sent a sudden chill through him. Was that the case? He certainly hoped not, it would be strange to meet someone, only to realize at some point that they weren't a someone at all. But that contradicted how he interacted with Inaho, didn't it? Thinking such a thing made him an obvious hypocrite, so he disregarded the thought.

He was there for a reason, and he didn't need to get to side tracked. But thinking of that reason made him slump. He'd tried a lot of stores today, with no luck, and he didn't expect to find anything here either. Slaine took one more look at the android, before deciding that at least this trip, he could be a little productive, even if it wouldn't help much. He could test if this android was as self aware as Inaho, if nothing else.

"Hello" he greeted from his place next to the door way, and strode over towards the android, standing behind a glass counter, filled with knick knacks and other shiny things.

The android smiled at him brightly and repeated, "How may I help you?"

Slaine opened his mouth to say something about what he was actually there for, but he got caught looking at the area where the android's nose should be, and that quickly shifted to the black band around its neck, and it's four fingers as it motioned with them just as a human would. "Why don't they make androids look more human?" The question was blurted out of his mouth faster than he could reign it in, and he had enough sense to look embarrassed by it, looking away sheepishly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he almost saw the android's face fall, but when he looked back properly it was simply smiling at him, as it had been before. "Androids are made in a variety of forms to meet with UFE mandated regulations." He thought the android might say more, but it went silent after that.

"Oh" he stated lamely. "I-I didn't realize it was a government thing." He found himself looking at the android's purple eyes, and thinking that actually, they were a very nice shade.

The android simply kept smiling at him, and motioned with its four fingered hand yet again. "How may I help you?"

Slaine cleared his throat, and looked at the android sheepishly, which was silly, because it didn't seem even slightly offended at his dumb question. "Sorry, about that. I'm looking for something." The android looked at him, with almost an expectant tint to its eyes, that smile never leaving it. "But," he paused, just a bit, considering what he'd say next, and deciding that he would go through with it. "I don't know what they're called." He motioned with his hands, as if he was holding something round. "It's a ball of some sort, but I've only ever seen them in antique stores."

"We have sports balls." The android answered, trying to be helpful. "Some are signed by famous individuals, while others are from specific games." The android walked from behind the counter, it's legs movement making it seem cumbersome for it to walk, but making good time none the less. It really did move just fine, but there was something about it that made the android seem like the simple movement wasn't natural. He watched with fascination, as it led him to a small section in the store, where a variety of sports paraphernalia resided. "Are these the balls you're looking for?" The android asked, peering over at him, waiting for a response.

Slaine gave the android a sheepish smile, and shook his head "No, not these." He probably shouldn't have felt so uncomfortable about asking the android these things. This was it's basic function, but he couldn't help it. Maybe he did have a horrible case of association. Maybe that's why they made androids look less human, to make association less of a problem. Slaine shook his head, if association was the reason he was still feeling it, even with the android less obviously human. It wasn't as strong as it was for Inaho, but it was still there.

He looked over at the android expectantly, and it looked back at him with the same general emotion. He thought how a human shop keeper might start suggesting other things, but the android simply blinked at him for a few seconds. When it did finally speak again, it had been a good minute. "These are the only items filed under 'ball'. Is there another term you could use for it?"

It was a very computer thing to say. 'ball' was its search parameter, and unless he had an image, it could only search using words. The android obviously had an itemized index of the stores stock, and used some sort of search function with key words to find things. Very, very computerized, where as the 'only ever seen in antique store' didn't register as a search parameter, because it only had an active stock of the antique store. It hadn't been an ideal test, and Slaine felt like he'd been a jerk, but he did feel rather assured that he had made the right deduction. The android really was very different in general processing from Inaho, who would likely would have found a different way to figure out what he was looking for.

Slaine looked up, and saw two photos of famous sports players in front of him. He shifted his gaze over to the still smiling android, and motioned to the two photos. " Which of these two do you like better?" he asked. He felt like he was heckling the android, but reminded himself that it was a machine, and likely didn't have any opinion at all about him, or what he was asking.

The android obediently looked at the photos. "The one on the right is signed, and more valuable." The android stated, trying to be helpful.

Slaine gulped, but kept going. "But don't you think the other one is nicer? The signed one is just him smiling. This one is him playing. Isn't that more meaningful?" Slaine looked over at the android, almost hopefully.

In response, the android took a second look at the two photos. "I do not have personal preference, sir, but many appreciate the ecstatic of movement." It answered, still looking intently at the two images.

Slaine frowned slightly, and looked around. "Do you have a favorite item?"

The android looked back at him. It's smile had disappeared as it looked at the two photos, but now that it was looking at him again, the upward curve of its lips was back. "No sir. Shall I show you some of our rare items?"

Slaine shook his head. "No, that's alright. Thank you for your help. I think I'll look around on my own." With that, the android gave a small 'okay' and walked back to the counter. Slaine watched it go for a few seconds, before shaking his head, and wandering around, moving methodically through the store.

He didn't really have any expectation of finding what he was looking for, after such a long day and after searching so many other stores, but he looked none the less. It would really upset him if he wasted his whole day looking for this thing, when Inaho had found it online, and they could have just paid extra (well, he would have footed the bill) to get it sent to him as quickly as possible. Even then, there was no absolute guarantee that it would have gotten to them in time.

The whole situation was enough to upset him if he thought about it, so he tried not to, and simply kept looking. Not to mention that he'd left Inaho alone for most of the day, after they'd had such an argument the day before, and after Inaho had shown obvious concern about his well being. From time to time he'd gotten text messages asking about his condition, but they'd been sparing, and more hesitant that usual. Slaine figured Inaho still felt like he was walking on eggshells around him, and that he was worried about conserving the phone's power.

Almost as if summoned his phone went off, and Slaine reached down to fish it out if his pocket, his gaze falling, when his eye caught something round, hidden deep on one of the lower shelves. He stopped in his tracks, mesmerized by the possibility that he had actually found what they were looking for, and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

He leaned down, and started gingerly rearranging things on the lower shelf, so that he could access the spear he thought he'd seen. And there, glistening at him from the back of the store shelf, was exactly what Inaho had shown him. He delicately reached over for the item, which to his eye, looked like nothing more than a glass orb. He hadn't really questioned Inaho on what exactly it was, but seeing it in person almost confirmed that it looked nothing like a power supply. There were no connection cables, no nothing. It was simply a misted sort of glass ball. This one of course was dusty and dirty, having been long forgotten on the bottom of a shelf, covered up by more prominent items, but it was the mirror image of what Inaho had shown him, he was sure of that. It was cool to the touch, as he worked to extract it from its former prison, and bring it back out into the light of the store.

He rubbed it off with his sleeve, not worrying about how dusty or dirty his clothing would get, and then cradled it gently in one arm. Carefully, he fished out his phone, snapped a few pictures of the item, and shipped them off to Inaho. He looked at the item while he waited, buffing it and holding it up to the light, and practically giddy at the find. It was rather simple looking, but Slaine couldn't help being transfixed by it, it really glistened in the light, and cast spots of light all around the room when he held it up. He really hoped Inaho said it was a match, he'd want to scream or cry in frustration if he didn't. Even still, there was something different about this one. He'd seen another one earlier that day, but Inaho had shot it down. He should have had a decent amount of hesitation, but there was just something about this one that made it very obvious to Slaine that it was entirely different from the other one he'd found.

He'd been staring at it rather transfixed, when his phone went off again, and he quickly reached down for it. Slaine hadn't even realized he'd placed it on one of the store shelves, and could have easily walked off without it. A little bashful at his obvious blunder, he shifted the item into one hand, and reached for the ringing phone. He clicked it on, and checked the message Inaho had sent him.

 _It is genuine. What is the asking price?_

Slaine giggled to himself (which was very unmanly) before clicking out a one handed 'I'll be home soon' response, and sending the message off. He almost skipped to the register, unable to contain his excitement. It didn't matter what their asking price was, he would pay it. The amount of relief that went through him at actually finding it, was well worth whatever they wanted for it. Not to mention, that Inaho's stability was at stake, which was entirely priceless.

As he got closer to the counter, he heard what he could only call a music box. It was a melody he didn't recognize, but the delicate tinkling of the metal was incredibly soothing and sweet. He looked around for a few moments to see where it was coming from, but the sound only brought him to the counter, where a small wooden music box sat open on the counter, where it had not previously been. Confused, he blinked at it a few seconds, before looking up at the android, with that same smile on its face.

"This music boxes song is very pretty, sir. Do you like it?" The android asked, and for a moment, it almost sounded like it was a genuine question, not born out of financial interest, or any other motive.

Slaine looked from the android, then down to the music box again. "It is very pretty." He cocked his head. "I do like it. Do you?" He fixed his eyes squarely on the beautiful purple of the android's eyes, and gave it a warm smile.

The android shook it's head. "It is not in my programming to have personal preference, sir, but the music box is very pleasing to listen too."

It occurred to him, in that exact moment, that this android, she was answering his question in her own way. This was her favorite item. "Is it expensive?" He asked, offering the android a soft smile.

She shook her head. "No sir, it is not expensive. Would you like to buy it?"

"Wouldn't you miss it if I bought it?" Slaine asked, looking at the little music box, as it stopped playing, and the android reached down to rewind it. It was sort of amazing how it's long, elegant looking fingers worked so delicately on the little golden wind-up.

Once she'd wound it, and the song starting again, she looked up at him. "No sir. I have recordings of many music boxes in my memory banks."

"Oh" Slaine said, looking at her four fingers, and her ball joints, before focusing on the android's smiling face. "I see." He hummed and hawed for a few moments, thinking about how stupid his idea was, before shaking his head and just going with it. "I'll take it." He stated, looking down at the music box, and then held out the orb in his hand. "And this too."

Before, he would have felt some hesitation in handing her the delicate orb, but as she extended her hands to take it, he felt rather reassured that she would not drop it, and that she would be extra careful with it. Just as he had anticipated, she was gentle and methodical in how she handled it, making sure to wrap it carefully in plastic, then paper, before depositing it in a cloth bag for him. Once she had finished, she reached down for the music box, but he shook his head no. "There's no need to wrap that one, it isn't going far."

The android's eyes blinked at him for a few seconds, before her smile reemerged ,and she delicately placed it into the bag as well.

She rang up the price, and he dutifully paid for it, before she handed him the bag, and smiled warmly at him. "Thank you for your purchase! Please come again!" She said, as if the statement was a prerecording.

He smiled back at her, and reached into the bag for the music box. Feeling entirely silly, he handed the item back to her. "This is for you." He held the item out, feeling awkward about the whole thing, as the android simply blinked down at the item, in obvious confusion. "It's a gift" He clarified, holding it out to her. "Thank you for answering my questions honestly."

Almost hesitantly, the android extended one hand, and he placed the small music box into her hand. He then reached into the bag, and retrieved the receipt. "Here" He placed that in her other hand as well. "That way, the owner will believe you when you tell him it was a gift." He looked at her awestruck face, as she looked down at the little music box, now squarely in her hand, and he couldn't help but beam. "Here, let me write down my phone number, in case he wants to ask." He reached down for one of the pens in a cup by the cash register, and retrieved the receipt from the android's other hand. He quickly scrawled his name, and phone number onto the slip of paper, and deposited it back into her hand.

The android didn't respond, she just kept looking at the music box, and then looking down at the receipt too. The situation was making Slaine a little uncomfortable, so he laughed sheepishly. "If you don't want it, you can just sell it again. Whatever you'd like is fine, but you should think about what you'd like to do with it, before deciding, okay?"

The android blinked up at him at that, and nodded her head, the smile suspiciously gone from her face, as it remained entirely blank. For some reason, it reminded him of Inaho. "Okay, Slaine." The android answered softly.

Slaine couldn't help but beam, but knew that now was an ideal time to depart. "I'll leave now. Thank you again for all your help! If I can, I'll come back to visit you some time." Slaine said, waving his hand and moving towards the stores exit.

As he hoisted the door open, and stepped out into the cold of the winter night, he heard a hesitant, "Please do." follow him out.


	11. Chapter 11

The house was silent when Slaine got back, and it was almost too warm for him inside. He'd just finished riding his bike all over town, and through snow at that. The experience was always a strange mix of being too hot, but not daring to take off his jacket. After a year of the bike being his primary mode of transportation he was used to the sensation, but it always made coming back to a warm house a strange feeling in the winter.

Slaine quickly deposited his shopping onto the kitchen table, and then went about taking off his jacket, and turning the lights on. He'd left early in the day, but riding the bike around town wasn't exactly a fast mode of transportation, and it was already dark out. It was a little concerning that he'd spent his whole day looking for the orb, especially when he thought it would be easy to find. Even still, the fact that he had found it was enough to lift his mood. Slaine now had what he needed to fix Inaho, just as he'd promised. Well, all but time, really.

He hadn't anticipated wasting a whole day looking for the part, and now he only had a few hours before he needed to get to sleep. He'd be heading to the hospital early the next morning, and he'd been told to get a good nights sleep beforehand. He didn't really want to stay up all night making repairs, but if that's what he needed to do, then Slaine was resigned to it. He had a feeling his nerves were going to keep him up anyway, but this was one task he would be more than happy to get off his plate.

Hopefully the repairs would be as easy as Inaho made them out to be.

"Inaho," He called, more out of courtesy than anything else. "I'm home."

The phone in his pocket went off, but he only fished it out after he'd put his scarf and jacket away in the closet.

 _Welcome back._

He looked over at the recliner in the living room, where he'd left Inaho. As expected, the android was still there, wrapped up in a blanket, facing the window. Slaine always liked looking out the window. When given a choice in classes, he always took a window seat, and usually went early to ensure he got one. His preferred spot on the couch gave him an ideal view of the back yard too. It had been silly, but he'd just sort of put Inaho facing the window without even thinking about it. Only now did he realize just how impractical that was. Slaine scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"Thanks. Anything happen while I was out?"

The question was more a force of habit than anything else. He usually asked Klancain the same thing when he came home, so the question had just slipped out without any real forethought. The chances of anything happening while he had been gone were slim. He probably should have left the TV on for Inaho, but he hadn't thought of it at the time. He had offered to hook Inaho up to the computer, so that he could listen to music, or maybe draw again, but Inaho had declined the offer. He'd preferred to be connected to the phone. They'd just left it at that.

From down the hall came an excited chirp from Tharsis, and Slaine wandered down the hallway to greet her. Once he was within sight, she flew over to him, and landed on his shoulder. He should have put her in the cage when he left, but he hadn't anticipated being gone that long. Slaine wondered if she'd left him some lovely little messes to find somewhere. She had a particular fancy for phone books they never used, and he wouldn't mind just letting her have them, if the messes she made were at least somewhat manageable. They weren't, of course. But she'd had the whole day to herself, and that was plenty of time for to have found them and made a mess of things. Or god forbid of any paperbacks that had been lying around. He reached up and pet her head with one finger. "Were you good today?" He asked hesitantly. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"Good" Tharsis replied, as if that was any sort of actual answer.

His phone went off again, as he turned back to the living room.

 _Nothing._

Slaine looked at the reply, and shrugged the shoulder that Tharsis wasn't on. "Well, no news is good news, right?" Tharsis chirped at him in response, before repeating "Good!" again. He expected an answer from Inaho, but the phone didn't go off again, so Slaine put it in his pocket. He gave Tharsis a soft pet with a lone finger and made his way back to the kitchen to retrieve the orb. She started nibbling on his ear affectionately.

"Inaho, what is this thing called again?" Slaine asked, as he extracted the item from the cloth bag, and quickly went about unwrapping the thing. It wasn't heavy, but the orb was actually rather large, so it was cumbersome to hold. After a few close calls, and Tharsis squawking at him at being jostled around, Slaine ended up putting it on the table while he unwrapped it. Halfway through the process, which seemed like a long time, the phone rang in Slaine's pocket. He didn't think much of the wait.

 _It is an ANDrive._

Slaine looked at the phone in confusion. "Andrive?" he asked, before shaking his head, and placing the phone onto the table top. He went back to unwrapping the orb. The android at the store had wrapped it very quickly, and surprisingly well. "Strange name for a power supply." Slaine added offhandedly, as he took the last bit of packing material off, and held the large orb up. "Doesn't look much like a power supply either. It looks like one of those glass orb things people put in their front yards. Only not as colorful." But just as shiny, Slaine thought, as he held the orb up to the light, and watched it glisten. Thasis seemed to like it too, because she kept shifting from one claw to the other on his shoulder. She'd had a prism once, that glistened a little like the andrive did. Slaine wondered if she was remembering it.

His eyes shifted from the orb, and then back to Inaho, immobile on the recliner. It then occurred to Slaine, that he definitely didn't know how to do this. Where was this andrive even meant to go? There was also a small part of him that couldn't forget what Calm had said. This android, Inaho, was a weapon, no matter how he seemed to protest the title. All of those initial concerns hadn't really gone away, but now that fixing the android was a realistic outcome they seemed somewhat louder in his head. It was also a little suspicious that Inaho was being exceptionally quiet about the whole thing. Before, he'd taken to constantly prodding Slaine about this and that. Now, Inaho seemed to be saying as little as possible. Slaine wasn't really sure what that meant, or how to even go about interpreting it.

Inaho did have emotions, Slaine was sure of that, but he still wasn't completely convinced they worked the same way an average person's might, or even the same way his own did. That wasn't bad, per say, but it made understanding Inaho and his eccentricities more difficult. Slaine shrugged to himself, which prompted Tharsis to fly off of his shoulder, and land on the back of one of the kitchen chairs instead. Slaine smiled at her apologetically. Perhaps the time alone had made Inaho more hesitant to speak. Who knew what went on in that brain of his.

"Okay Inaho," Slaine stated, taking in a deep breath, and walking over to stand in front of the android. Once the andrive was out of the light, Tharsis squawked at him again in protest. Slaine gave her a sympathetic look, but kept going. He reminded himself of the promise he'd made, and that if anything did come of this, he would do his best to take responsibility for the consequences. "how do I do this?"

From behind him, the phone rang again. Slaine looked back at the table in irritation, and went back to retrieve it.

 _Remove the blanket, and any clothing from the upper body._

Slaine nodded at the message, and pocketed the phone before heading back to the android. Once he'd reached Inaho, the phone went off again.

 _Please._

Slaine thought about objecting to the plea, but shook his head and put the phone back into his pocket. He was not going to be sensitive, or pushy. Or at least he was going to try. There would be time later for that sort of thing later.

He was careful to place the andrive onto the couch, and then went about unwrapping Inaho from the blanket. Once that was done the old sweater was next, and then Inaho was laying there bare chested in the living room. Behind him came the fluttering of wings, and Slaine saw Tharsis fly back down the hallway. She didn't like it much when she wasn't the center of attention. Slaine would have to play with her before he went to bed, if she was willing.

With all of the coverings off of Inaho, it was hard to ignore just how many injuries there were. A menagerie of stab wounds littered the left side of the chest, where a normal human's heart would be. If someone aimed there, it was quite obvious what they wanted. He found himself tracing the jagged holes with his fingers, before he had the good sense to stop himself. It was cool to the touch, and there wasn't even a hint of movement. For just a moment, Slaine heard his own heart pounding in his ears, rushing blood through his body, and wondered what it would be like to not worry about his heart, and the irregular beating that characterized it.

The phone pulled him out of his musing, humming at him as he quickly retracted his hand and once again pulled it out of his pocket.

 _Opening chest cavity. Previous ANDrive will be in the left chest cavity. Remove it, and replace it with the new one._

Slaine read the message, and was about to inquire how to go about following the instructions, when there was something like a click. He looked up and then suddenly the patch of unblemished skin on Inaho's left side, right below the arm, was no longer smooth. A hairline seam had appeared out of nowhere. If Slaine hadn't been looking at the area just moments before, he wouldn't have noticed it.

Slaine had almost expected the chest to just spring open on its own, like a car's trunk, but the seam didn't get any larger, or smaller. Slaine placed the phone down on the armrest of the recliner, knelt down and leaned in so that he could reach over to the seam. All of the uninjured skin around the area felt very human, except for it's obvious chill and lack of movement. He was suddenly reminded of the first day he'd brought Inaho home, and how at the time Inaho had looked like a corpse to him. He felt like one too, if Slaine was being honest.

Slowly, Slaine placed a hand on either side of the seam, and pushed the two apart. The machinery gave something of a whine, and refused to budge. Slaine grumbled to himself about old rusty things, and then pushed harder. It did eventually open, but Slaine really had to pry and push to get anywhere. The hinge was on the other side of the chest, and with it now open, Slaine had a very clear look at the array inside.

There were a lot of things Slaine had anticipated. He'd looked at manuals for androids before, and had a general idea of how they were suppose to look. There should have been a lot of circuitry throughout, and it was all meant to be exceedingly complicated, like the inside of a computer, with stationary parts and wiring that helped send signals to the pistons that would be used for movement. Inaho, as always, was not what he had expected.

Obviously, the people who had designed him, were not the same sort of people who had designed the modern android. Inaho's insides looked very much like what Slaine imagined a human's would look like, the main difference being that none of it looked like normal biological materials. There was a set of ribs that looked like they were made out of some sort of plastic, a set of lungs and tiny little cords that looked like they might be blood vessels made out of something Slaine couldn't name. It was intricate and detailed, with all the wrong colors and materials, but it looked distinctly like the old anatomical dummy in his high school science class.

His first impulse was to start touching things, to poke around and see how the hell all of it functioned. He almost did too, his finger already extended to trace a rib, before he caught himself. The thought that he had almost been about to go poking around in someone else's body, was rather sobering. Talk about taking liberties, he thought. Slaine quickly retracted his finger as his face warmed in embarrassment. Even still, it was fascinating to look at, and it wasn't anything remotely similar to the androids of today's standards. He felt like he could keep looking at all the intricacies for hours. Quite clearly he could note all of the nicks and wounds that had taken a toll on the inner workings of the machine. There were a few wounds, but most seemed to have only been surface punctures, with minor damage sustained inside the chest cavity. Only a few truly stood out to him as substantial, and they were all around the area where the heart would have been on a normal person.

Instead of a heart, was an orb almost identical to the one Slaine had purchased. It had three large puncture wounds, the last of which, still had a jagged, broken knife blade still lodged in it. Small cracks and fault lines spider webbed out from the three holes, and there were a few places where the old andrive had started to cave in on itself. Unlike the rest of the mechanisms, Slaine had no desire to touch the andrive. It looked like it would shatter if he did, and Slaine wasn't generally fond of breaking things. For a while, he just looked at it. The thing still glistened in the light, but it wasn't as vibrant or pretty as the one he'd purchased. They were both hollow, but this one distinctly looked it, and through the holes inside it he could see inky darkness where the light didn't seem to penetrate. Once again he found himself wondering how exactly this was a power source, while his mind wandered to the strange corner of his brain where he usually kept memories of old sci-fi movies that might or might not have given him nightmares.

Slaine thought long and hard about how he should take the andrive out, but there didn't seem to be any obvious answer. Other than to just reach in there and hope it didn't break into a million tiny pieces, of course. With how complex the mechanisms around it were, trying to take out even decent sized pieces of the drive from the rest of the machine would be difficult. Smaller pieces might well be impossible. He wondered if Inaho was like a human. If something got stuck in there, would it eventually disrupt regular functions? He'd once heard of a guy who had a pair of scissors left inside him after an operation. Slaine didn't exactly remember how the story had gone, but his mind fabricated details for him instead. He imagined there was a lot of pain involved and more surgeries, and infections, and of course inevitable, agonizing, death. He chided himself. Inaho couldn't be that fragile. He'd taken a knife to his proverbial heart, and was still around to talk about it. Not that he had, but he could. Probably.

Slaine was still analyzing the situation, and trying to figure out how to take the andrive out in the least amount of pieces, when his phone went off again. Slaine had been caught up in his own little world, and hadn't expected the sudden influx of noise. So when his concentration was interrupted, it startled him. He reached out for the andrive on impulse. It didn't shatter the moment he touched it, which was generally reassuring. Instead, it was cool and smooth against his fingers, and felt reasonably stable. Slowly, Slaine strengthened his hold on the item, expecting it to shatter, and was surprised when it didn't. Taking great care to be gentle, he started to pull. It came out with surprising ease, and did not lose even one piece in the process.

Once it was out, he appraised it more closely. Even when he held the holes up to the light, they still seemed dark and foreboding, like if you stuck something in there, it would just disappear forever. That of course was nonsense, but at the same time, Slaine didn't go sticking his fingers in either. The andrive still seemed to glisten a little, but it was mostly dull, and faded. Slaine traced some of the cracked webbing for just a second, and pulled his finger away as if burned when one of the small pieces caved in. He felt like a moron.

Slaine gently placed the andrive down onto the floor and out of the way. He hoped it wouldn't lose anymore pieces. If he could help it, he wanted clean up to be as minimal as possible. He didn't need a piece of shattered, whatever it was made of, all over his living room floor. It's similarity to glass was also not reassuring.

He stood from kneeling on the floor, and examined the empty space in the chest cavity where the andrive had been. There seemed to be a rounded platform where the andrive had been sitting. It made Slaine wonder how exactly the orb stayed in there. It looked like every time Inaho laid down, it would just roll around. Not that there was a lot of room for it to wander, but it seemed highly unstable to just have it wobbling around in there. It made him wonder how exactly things stayed put in a human body too. He'd never really thought of it much before. The anatomical models he'd seen in his life had been well packed, but they'd also had little metal hooks, so that everything fitted well into place. Humans most obviously wouldn't have that.

Well, he figured that if he did something wrong, Inaho would correct him. The android was usually good about making things known, though now that Slaine thought of it, Inaho was still being unusually quiet.

Thinking of that brought Slaine right back to why he'd grabbed the andrive in the first place. His phone had startled him. He looked over at the arm of the recliner, where the phone was still flashing at him. Slaine had just a second to look sheepish, before he reached over for it. Only one small word greeted him.

 _Please_

It was only then that he realized he really had been dawdling. He imagined being awake while someone cut him open, and having to sit there patiently while the surgeon looked at his insides as if they were some great puzzle. Again, Inaho was probably far more durable than he was, but it wasn't a nice situation to find oneself in. He felt rather ashamed for making Inaho anxious, if nothing else. He'd also stayed almost completely silent through the whole thing, with only his breathing there to reassure Inaho he hadn't left. Not that he'd want a surgeon updating him on how his surgery was going point by point, cause he would much rather not be awake for any of it, but it was something to consider, regardless.

"I've gotten the andrive out, and there doesn't seem to be any problems yet." Slaine said, mostly for Inaho's benefit. He wondered if Inaho could feel any of what was going on. He'd said that he could feel changes in temperature, which didn't seem to make much sense now that Slaine thought of it. Could he actually feel it as Slaine had taken the old battered andrive out of him? If he could, Slaine wasn't really sure he wanted to know.

He looked down at his phone again, expecting Inaho to respond in some way, but it remained silent. It was strange, to be sure. Inaho was usually prompt with his replies, and he often seemed to want the last word, but nothing was forthcoming.

Giving the phone a strange look, as if it was at fault for the lack of reply, Slaine placed it back onto the armrest of the recliner and padded over to the couch. The new andrive sat harmlessly on the couch cushion, waiting for him. It was certainly prettier than the old one, and still glistened and glowed with something akin to purpose. That thought, of course, was nonsense for an inanimate object, but Slaine had already well established that he had association. He figured there was little point in scolding himself for it now. There would be plenty of time for that if Inaho turned into a crazy murder machine. Not that Slaine actually expected it to happen, but it was still on the proverbial table, so to speak.

He took just a second to hold the andrive up to the light once more, and to look at all the little prisms it projected onto the floor. These andrives were obviously the same, but they were so different that it seemed a shame to even compare them. Slaine shook his head, and reminded himself that he had a schedule to keep too, and that he needed to go to bed in the near future. It wouldn't do him any good to keep chasing these silly little thoughts all over the place. He was just finding clever ways of wasting time by following every crazy thought that popped into his head.

He'd been dawdling in his own thoughts for quite a while at that point, so he shifted the andrive into one arm, and leaned over to look at the phone once more. It's screen remained black and silent. There were still no new messages. Slaine huffed at the phone, and positioned himself over Inaho, so that it would be easy to just place the andrive on the platform. Slaine felt a hint of shame for his unnecessary delays, and gently eased the andrive into the spot the old one had been in.

There was no rush of movement, no sound of acceptance, and no flashing lights or working machinery. There was absolutely no indication that anything had changed at all. Maybe he'd done something wrong. Slaine leaned in to see if there was something else he might need to do, but found nothing. He thought about taking the andrive out, and putting it back in again, but in the end, decided against it. With any luck, he'd get a message from Inaho sometime soon, telling him what he'd done wrong, and how to fix it. He didn't really want to go poking around and making mistakes till then.

Slaine took a step backwards, frowning and scratching the back of his head, thinking that perhaps a view from farther away would provide an answer. It did.

One lone red eye, was looking at him.


	12. Chapter 12

Slaine was dreaming. He knew this, because Klancain was cooking, and Slaine was watching. In reality, Klancain never cooked. Slaine did all the cooking, or they ordered food. Those were the two basic options, and there was little deviation. But Klancain was cooking for him, and Slaine was sitting at the table, watching his back as those broad shoulders shifted and rolled from side to side. It smelt amazing.

Slaine had always thought watching people perform tasks was interesting. There was something about seeing someone's hands as they moved to and fro, as they created or formed or accomplished. There was so much subtle grace in hands and fingers, and no one moved the same way as anyone else. Even watching someone do something repetitive and mundane was fascinating for Slaine. Klancain still thought he liked watching cooking shows for the recipes, and that was a nice side effect of course, but he really just liked watching their hands. Quick, confident movements, pinch this, taste that, kneed this. It was mesmerizing. He tended to watch concerts for the very same reasons.

He couldn't see as much as he might have liked, since Klancain's back was turned, but Slaine could see him reaching for this and that, needling the food with utensils, reaching down to try what he was making before reaching for something else, and Slaine could hear all the distinctive rounded sounds that went with cooking. He never got to see Klancain do things like this. The extent was writing, and though there was an elegance and grace writing, it was nothing like cooking, or playing an instrument. Klancain was far too lazy for either.

It all looked seamless, his shifting feet and his reaching hands, as if Klancain actually knew what he was doing. That was laughable. He wondered if Klancain had ever tried to cook before. This had to be a dream.

And then Klancain turned around, and Slaine knew it was a dream.

While Klancain had been cooking, he'd seemed larger than he was in reality, but with his back turned Slaine hadn't noticed. He'd just accepted that Klancain's back was an immovable wall, his shoulders wide and strong. When Klancain turned around, he was suddenly young, maybe thirteen, with chubby cheeks, and bones that weren't done growing. The change was sudden, but Slaine accepted it, as most dreamers accept the oddities that tended to pop up.

Klancain smiled at him, and it was all childish mischief and simplicity. Slaine suddenly remembered that there had been a gap in Klancain's teeth till he was 15, and his eyes zeroed in on it.

Klancain hadn't been a bad kid, but in the fashion of other children, Slaine hadn't really thought of him as an adult would. It was strange to look at the younger version now, to notice all the small things that had stayed on his face, all the little gestures that had somehow disappeared over time.

Neither of them had smiled much as children. Klancain had gone to military schools, and casual things like that had been conditioned out of him when he'd been in the presence of adults. Slaine had smiled more, but they'd looked more vacant than anything else, and Mrs. Cruhteo had told him at some point that if he didn't want to smile, he shouldn't, so he'd just stopped.

Summers had been reserved for smiling, when Klancain was back for the break, and Slaine wasn't shuffling through private school trying to avoid the judging eyes of his teachers and peers. Over the summers, they'd sought out trouble, or at least Klancain did. Slaine always thought that being good all through school was too much of a burden on Klancain, so when he was home, he needed some minor way to rebel. Slaine had always either been dragged along, or had followed with the intent of making sure Klancain didn't get into too much trouble. He found early on that being an older brother was not an easy position.

Smiles were less elusive around that time of year, when the adults were more than happy to shove them out the door, and not hear from them till evening. The smile on Klancain's face was one that instantly brought those memories back, but it was still reminiscent of the smiles that were now quite common on Klancain's more mature face.

"Do you like it?" The question was in the deeper voice of a more modern Klancain, but those mischievous, childish eyes looked up at him at the same time, so it was hard to put the two together. Without waiting for a response, Klancain reached over, and poked his chest, right over his heart.

He remembered now, that Klancain used to do that.

The Cruhteo's were not a family that felt the need for overt displays of affection. Mrs. Cruhteo now seemed to embrace them a bit more since she didn't see her children often. Retirement had brought out a mother in her that Slaine hadn't seen as a child, and it was a strange feeling to be mothered after so long. In their childhood, it simply hadn't been an issue.

His actual father hadn't been much for it either, but in that vacuum of physical contact, where a well placed hug, or an arm over his shoulders would have seemed like the ultimate display of affection, Klancain's little pokes, right to the chest, had somehow been special. They'd meant something.

They'd stopped, of course, after a certain doctor's visit.

He'd almost forgot them all together.

\/

His alarm was going off, and for the life of him, Slaine couldn't understand why. Just a few seconds ago, he'd been at a table, ready to try a delicious smelling meal, his stomach grumbling. Now, he was drooling on his pillow and glaring angrily at his alarm clock. He wanted to do something rash, like throw it across the room, but he didn't. He reached over and turned it off, before rolling to the opposite side of the bed, and groaning loudly. He shut his eyes for just a moment, and reality came rushing back to him. He did have a reason to be up. His eyes fluttered open again, his vision hazy and unfocused.

There was someone standing in his room.

Slaine was out of his bed and to the far side of the room in a matter of seconds, his breathing fast. His hand found itself over his pounding heart, trying to keep it in place as it tried to escape, sputtering in his chest, blossoming pain. He was suppose to be alone. Klancain wasn't here, and never got up before him anyway.

There were a few tense seconds of breathy gasping, and his fingernails digging into his own skin, before his final bit of sense came to the rescue.

Standing in the door way, was Inaho, the android he'd spent the last few days with.

Things suddenly fell into place in his head. Slaine let out a jagged, exhausted sigh to try and calm himself down. It worked a little, but his body was still in a panic, and it was hard to just convince it that there was no danger. He could feel the lingering ache, and exhaustion that came with over exerting himself as he slid his eyes shut, and counted to ten. It helped a little, but his heart still felt like a revving car engine that wouldn't start, and the unease that had overtaken him was having a difficult time going away.

Once he'd finished counting, he opened his eyes again. Inaho was still standing there, impassive. He was wearing the old sweater Slaine had put on him before, and now that he was standing on his own, the big thing made him seem slight and diminutive. Slaine wondered if that had been part of the design, to make him look unassuming and non threatening. There was also an old faded pair of pants that no longer fit Slaine, but seemed quite at home covering up Inaho's legs. It was strange, and somewhat domestic to see the android in his own clothes, and moving around in his room. Slaine was suddenly reminded how surreal the whole situation was. He didn't feel like he'd treated Inaho like a thing before, but it was suddenly apparent how imperative movement was to seeing him as an actual person.

Now that Slaine wasn't freaking out, he saw a glass of water in Inaho's hand. The android looked him over, his one red eye impassive, and giving no indication of what he thought. He seemed to be waiting for something, or perhaps he was hesitating. Slaine couldn't tell, but he offered something of a sheepish smile as a peace offering. "Sorry." He stuttered out. "G'morning."

Deeming that somehow acceptable, Inaho slowly padded over toward him, and offered the water in his outstretched hand. Slaine noticed that the cup was half empty, and that in Inaho's one shaky hand, it was sloshing around. Slaine reached for it, and the glass instantly steadied, but he could feel the trembling pulses coming from Inaho's arm.

Inaho's eye narrowed ever so slightly, and then he was no longer holding the cup. Inaho retracted the arm, nodded once, and then turned to leave the room.

Slaine watched him go, his footsteps labored, slow and deliberate. He was already out of the room when Slaine had the decent sense to call out a belated "Thank you!" He looked down at the half empty cup, and took a sip. Just plain water. It was delicious.

He only realized how thirsty and hungry he was at that moment, and downed the glass without a second thought. There was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen, and he wondered if his dream had been spawned by it. He could still remember the dream, but the details were starting to become blurry. He knew Klancain had been in it, and food had been another important thing, but the rest was starting to leave him. For just a second, he tried to remember exactly what it had been about, but his concentration was fleeting, especially with that amazing scent in the air. He found himself wandering out of the room, teased by the thought of something delicious.

Inaho was in the kitchen, his hand slowly stirring a pot of something while it trembled and jerked. Slaine was on Inaho's right side, so the android turned to see him come in, before looking back at the pot. Slaine wondered if Inaho spooked as easily as he did, and decided to try and be considerate. He moved over slowly, and stood on Inaho's left side, so it would be easier for Inaho to see him. He looked down into the pot, to see a warm amalgam of things simmering.

"This smells amazing. What is it?" Slaine asked, leaning in closer to the mixture and taking a deep inhale. His eyes shifted back to Inaho, who turned his head towards Slaine and jerked his chin upwards. Slaine wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but Inaho didn't stop stirring, or otherwise move. Slaine took a small step backwards, thinking that maybe it meant that he was too close for comfort.

A little ways away, Slaine noticed his lap top sitting on the kitchen counter. He looked over at it, and realized that there was a recipe on the screen. So that's what the motion had meant, to look at the computer.

Slaine gave Inaho a hesitant smile, but Inaho was not looking at him. He was back to looking at the pot, stirring as rhythmically as he could manage.

The recipe on the screen was something he couldn't even read, but looking at the ingredients and instructions, it seemed to be a chicken soup of some sort. Slaine looked over at the pot again. "Can I help?" He liked cooking, and he liked the thought of cooking with someone else. He couldn't remember ever doing it, but now that he was thinking of it, it sounded really nice.

Inaho looked at him again, and shook a definitive 'no'. Slaine had just long enough to feel slighted, before Inaho was running his eyes up and down Slaine's body. He was suddenly self conscious. He'd just woken up, of course he wasn't going to look presentable yet. He was also in his warm, flower print pajamas. They'd been a gag gift years ago, and they were amazing and he loved them. Still, he felt his cheeks growing hot as Inaho looked back at the soup.

"They're comfortable!" He exclaimed, as he folded his arms in front of himself defensively. Inaho looked at him again, and Slaine couldn't tell if something in his face was malfunctioning, or if his perpetual poker face was a personality quirk. Inaho then looked at something past Slaine, and jerked his chin upward again.

Starting to get the hang of this game, Slaine turned. Inaho had been motioning at the clock that hung on the wall. The old fancy one that Slaine had found at a garage sale. It looked like it belonged in an old Victorian house, or at least he liked to pretend it would, if it wasn't missing the seconds hand, and a chunk of the wood on the side wasn't gone. Klancain had threatened to throw it away almost once a month for that first year they'd lived together, but it had stayed, and was now part of the family of things he called his own. It was telling him he had to be at the hospital in an hour. That's what Inaho had been trying to say. He hadn't been making judgments on Slaine's less than masculine sleep attire. Maybe.

Slaine turned around, and hurried out of the kitchen. "We need to get you a voice box!"

\/

Once he had showered, and changed into something marginally more presentable (a pair of sweat pants and a sweater) Slaine reached over for his phone, and noticed that it was flashing at him. He hadn't heard it go off, so it must have happened when he went out to see Inaho, or when he'd been in the shower.

Part of him expected it to be Inaho. Slaine had completely forgotten that Calm had said Inaho didn't have a voice box. Part of him had just assumed that once the power supply was back, they'd be talking with one another. It had sounded like a really nice prospect. Asking personal questions over the phone had seemed insensitive at best, Slaine imagined they might be a bit easier to broach if they were talking face to face. Not that he wanted to pry, just in case Inaho needed someone to talk to. Slaine had sort of vainly hoped he'd end up being a good shoulder for Inaho to lean on.

Obviously, it wasn't nearly that simple. The android could get around, and he could write out little notes with kindergarten level penmanship, but it took him a long time to get anything done. It was significantly easier to just highjack a computer or a phone to say what he wanted to. Slaine wondered if that was frustrating, having to walk around on wobbly legs, and only having one jerky arm, or if Inaho was just happy to be moving again. Slaine figured it would probably be a combination of the two, but he didn't really feel comfortable asking Inaho.

Slaine grabbed the phone, and unlocked it. The message wasn't from Inaho.

It was from Klancain.

Klancain, who was on vacation. Klancain, who hadn't gotten up early in probably 2 years, and was two hours behind him. Either he hadn't gone to bed, or he was up early.

Something was wrong, and Slaine instantly had a sinking feeling that his brother knew. Slaine had gone out of his way not to tell him, or any of the Cruhteos, about the procedure. It was suppose to be a simple procedure, they didn't need to know, and they didn't need to worry. He was an adult, he didn't have to share these things. Slaine thought back to when Klancain left, and all the tension that had been in his shoulders. Thinking back on it, now he was positive his little brother knew, somehow. Slaine had always been horrible at keeping secrets, and Klancain had always been like a blood hound sniffing them out.

He didn't want to open that message. He was sure it was going to be angry, and indignant, and that he'd feel like a child. This was no mere coincidence, it just couldn't be.

For what felt like half an hour, he stared at the screen, telling himself he had no obligation to open it. He really didn't. He could say it just never went through, that he never got it. He could delete it and ignore it. He really didn't need this stress at that moment. He could always just deal with it after the procedure was done.

Slaine opened it.

Before he did, he'd steeled himself, anticipating every horrible little thing it could be. He suddenly remembered Klancain's chubby cheeks and the gap in his teeth from the dream, and he opened it.

As always, it was worse than he had expected.

 _I love you_


	13. Chapter 13

He did not need additional reinforcement of the inherent frailties of the human race.

They were the most brazen and ill conceived of the animal kingdom; destroyers and creators, gods in their whimsy, benevolence, and wrath. To be blunt, they were horrible creatures, unrivaled in their splendor, but as was the fate of all biological mater, they were blessed with the cycles of their world. Their lungs, heart and blood were constantly in motion, their facilities far more complicated and delicate than they cared to admit. As all things defined as living, they were a miracle of creation, for even one slight defect could inhibit the whole system. Frailty was in their nature, part of what made them so desperate to strive and over compensate. At odds with these facts, human beings were obsessed with memory, with the need for some solid sense of existence, in a reality that granted them none.

Human frailty was, in truth, the core principle of his existence. It had been the cause of his creation, the driving force behind his objectives, those preordained for him and his own, and it would be his inevitable undoing.

It was simply that organic life forms lived and died, often with only a slight line of distinction. Life was a quintessence of dust; it demanded a cycle, that all created must also perish. Inaho was not foolish enough to think he was exempt, but it still left him a pariah, to watch as his durability allowed him to keep living well past even his own expectations. Perhaps his body, a poor imitation at best, had been subconsciously endowed with the human lust for life. Inaho really had no other rational explanations.

Life would be so much simpler if he had never been granted a sense of self, or been awoken to the awareness that hallmarked intelligent life. But of course, he never would have been able to imitate them without it, so there was no purpose in such pointless speculation. He would always be an outcast in this world of cycles, but at the very least, he wouldn't look like one for long.

The hospital was not what he had anticipated. It was clean, orderly, and spacious. A far cry from what he remembered a hospital to be, it was almost pleasant, with its stark cleanliness and the silence that enveloped it. He had been stuck with grime and dust for so long that it was overwhelmingly pleasant to be in a place so sterile as to lack its own distinctive smells, outside of what the cleaners were using. Perhaps he should work in a hospital one day. If this was the model for a modern hospital, it would not be such a horrible venture.

On his left, Slaine walked slowly. The two matched their paces, Slaine moving much slower for Inaho's benefit. An arm was looped in Inaho's, and it was pleasantly warm, if not a bit clammy. Slaine had asked if Inaho would like aid in walking when they'd first set out, and without any need to decline, Inaho had consented. Any extra source of warmth was worth the trouble, and if others thought it was he going to the hospital, with the eye patch and a missing right arm, all the better for Slaine and his fretful nature.

Between them, a bag hung from Inaho's shoulder, two thermos inside it. If procedure went as planned, Slaine would have something warm after, should he want it. Inaho suspected Slaine would not, but he had not eaten the day before. If it had been feasible, Inaho would have already fed Slaine, but with fasting orders, being prepared was the best he could do.

With measured care Slaine steered them to a row of vacant seats, and stood motionless as Inaho sat. To be clear, sitting was the last thing Inaho wanted to do, but moving unnecessarily was not advisable in his current state. It was luck that still allowed him to meander around now. He had not expected his old, atrophied parts to function as well as they did. He didn't need to strain their already suffering state with unnecessary movement.

Seeing that Inaho was settled, Slaine gave a rather bland smile of approval, his eyes angled toward Inaho, but focused on something else, in that entirely human fashion of being in two places simultaneously, while never leaving the first. A sudden puff of air seemed to signify that he was back in the present, and Slaine shook his head, opened his mouth to say something, then clamped it shut again. He rolled his lips for a moment, raised his hand as if he was going to motion for something, and then let his arm fall and hang at his side. He wandering in the general direction of the reception counter.

Inaho watched.

Slaine happened to be an exceptionally simple human to read. His nerves displayed themselves in the twitching of fingers, and of the avoidance of eye contact, something that was easy to detect, even with less than 24 hours of sight. Domesticity seemed to be what Slaine was trained for, and though he had understanding of hardship, it was something he attempted to hide behind half truths, vacant smiles, and outright avoidance.

He was simple, in the most endearing of ways, and was in constant need of reassurance. For this reason, he was not difficult to predict, nor was he complex or unique. Needy, was a harsh, but accurate adjective. If something filled that void, it would retain a place in Slaine's life. Simple validations of his importance were paramount, and though Inaho could not talk, there were other simple actions he could take to fill some of those needs. Being hobbled and horribly disfigured worked to his advantage in this way.

A few mumbled words escaped Slaine's mouth as he spoke with the nurse, but it came out garbled, and was too quiet for Inaho to overhear.

There was an auditory click every time Slaine's jittery fingers tapped on the reception desk. They were erratic, and it took the nurse pointedly looking at Slaine's fingers, for him take them off the counter, wring them together for a few seconds, and then shove them into pockets.

A clipboard appeared over the edge of the counter, and Slaine shuffled from one foot to the other before taking it in hand. Nodding to the nurse, he ambled over in a random direction, his eyes scanning the pages in front of him, before he looked up, and realized he was not headed towards Inaho. One of those vacant smiles splashed across his face, as if his disorientation was some clever anecdote at his expense. He hurried over to take a seat on Inaho's left side, ever attempting consideration.

The room was filled with the soft scratching of pen ink, and a morning talk show on the television. Oddly, the reception area was almost empty. It could be due to the close proximity to Christmas. Inaho imagined that most of the action in the hospital around this time, would be in the ER, which had its own separate entrance.

Inaho watched as Slaine scrawled out his information on the paperwork, committing segments of curled cursive to long term memory, should they at some point be useful. Inaho's memory banks were full of such seemingly useless information, and he lamented their inherent limitations. At some point he would research a method to effectively expand them, but it would not be soon. His legs had to be his first priority. He would work on the odds and ends of personalized modifications and expansion after regular functions were working optimally.

He took special care in watching Slaine sign his name at the bottom of the page. It was a thing of intricate loops, and scrunched, cursive letters, scrawled out so automatically that it was the neatest thing on the page. Inaho might have been able to imitate it once, but he was a far cry from such feats now.

Then Slaine looked up, as if suddenly noticing that Inaho had not wandered off, or that he was there at all. "Just a-" Slaine fumbled the words, cutting himself off abruptly, and looking back down at the papers. Without any further explanation, he stood, and motioned to the receptionist's desk with one hand before his back was again turned.

Slaine had neglected to mention exactly what procedure he was going through, but it was not difficult to find. Even if Inaho hadn't already known, it had been clearly printed on the paperwork, of which Slaine had made no efforts in hiding. Perhaps it had not occurred to him.

It had been implied, earlier in the morning, that Slaine would have liked for Inaho to stay at the house. Inaho had chosen to ignore the hint. For once, it was convenient for a second party to know he wasn't human, that way he could simply skirt around normal courtesy and protocol, as if he had no understanding of what he was suppose to do in any given situation. It had it's odd conveniences.

The receptionist was saying something, her eyes on the papers as Slaine handed them over. He waited for her to say something else, but it seemed whatever instructions she had dispensed, had no follow up additions. Slaine's hands slipped from the reception desk, where his fingers had been yanking on one another, and fell rather lifelessly to his sides. Once again, he crossed the threshold of the waiting room, his shoulders hunched. He looked around nervously as if someone might be spying on him.

When Slaine finally sat, it was with a sound that was breathy, exhausted, and a touch on the dramatic side. Slaine angled his head backwards, stretching his neck out, and looking up at the white ceiling for some sort of cosmic answer.

Not for the first time, Inaho was thankful for his lack of spoken language.

Frailty, he reminded himself, was the cornerstone of life, and he was not exempt.

\/

When a nurse called for Slaine, it had been approximately 13 minutes of hand wringing, finger tapping, and knee knocking. Inaho had taken to reading something frivolous in a magazine aimed at women in their 30s. Reading about detergents and cook wear was less irksome.

As his name flew out into the open air, Slaine popped out of his seat as if it had suddenly become too hot to sit in. While Slaine crossed the waiting room in great, almost leaping strides, Inaho placed the magazine down, and struggled to his feet. Walking was not inherently difficult, it just took time. Getting up, was significantly harder, and by the time Inaho had managed it, Slaine and the nurse were already heading towards the door she'd come from.

Inaho shuffled forward to follow, still gripping the bag on his shoulder. When Slaine stopped for just a moment, and looked back, the surprise on his face made it obvious that he had not expected to be followed. Or perhaps he had forgotten Inaho was there at all. Slaine gave the nurse something of a look, before doubling back.

Inaho had a decent idea what was going to happen, and he saw few means of preventing it. He could arrange what he wanted, if Slaine could accurately understand him, but there wasn't much sense in what ifs.

A warm hand reached out to steady Inaho's arm, and he knew there was no way around what would transpire. Slaine had crossed that waiting room in hardly any time at all. Inaho had only managed a few steps. There was something of a placating smile this time, as Slaine guided Inaho back to the seats. Normally the smile would have been an improvement over the vacant one, but it did nothing for Inaho's current mood. With ease, Slaine helped Inaho down into one of the seats.

"Shouldn't take too long." Slaine said. The arm he'd looped in Inaho's lingered for a few moments after he had taken a seat. Then it was gone. Slaine disappeared behind a door, and it clicked shut behind him.

\/

Many, many hours later, the nurse came back. Slaine did not. That was not surprising. It had been too long. There had been complications.

When the nurse relayed what had happened, Inaho gave his best skeptical look. He raised his working hand, extended two fingers, and tapped his cheek twice. The nurse didn't even bat an eye, signing out a response, and leading him deeper into the hospital.

\/

Inaho left an hour later.


	14. Chapter 14

There existed a sound. Everything about it was a mystery. He couldn't tell what it was, or where it was, but whatever it happened to be, it sounded like something pounding into something else. Over and over and over it continued, echoing around him in loops. Maybe he was in water, where sound traveled faster, because the sounds came back at him consistent and rhythmic. Even if he was, there was no way to know.

He couldn't move or see, and the only reprieve from numbness was a creeping chill, like frost slowly consuming what little feeling he had. Even still, that was a dull sort of sensation, and it rose no terror in him.

For what felt like a very long time, this was simply how things were. He couldn't see anything, no matter how he tried, and the pounding was never interrupted by other disturbances. In between the sound was silence, utter and unbearable, as if nothing had ever existed or ever would, until the sound came back. Perhaps he was stuck in a space between, and something wanted in or out. Maybe that something was him. It was impossible to say.

It all should have concerned him; slowly freezing, not being able to move, or see, or feel. Even the contrast between the sound, and then the lack of all sound should have made him anxious at the very least. He'd spent so much of his life worrying about this or that, that it was strange to suddenly feel nothing. He'd been told, and believed, that he was a person with volatile emotions. He'd always thought of them as waves that crashed against him, shoving in different directions while he tried to stay afloat. It suddenly came to him that it wasn't true. They were not unnecessary or overbearing, every lesson they had to teach, he needed to learn. They were useful, and good. It took them being gone, for him to come to the realization. Now, he felt nothing, and it took a surprisingly long time to figure that out. He should have been upset, because his emotions kept him safe, they warned him, but now they were gone. There was just nothing, only the understanding that something had existed, and now it did not. All the energy in him was gone, and with it, all the things that made him. All that was left were his thoughts, and those were fleeting and stagnant, unemotional and blunt.

It occurred to him at some point, that he was probably dead, but it was hard enough remembering what that should mean exactly. Nonexistence, perhaps, was what this was. So like all his other thoughts, he let it occur, and slip from his mind. There was nothing to hold it down, and he had no effort or energy to try.

The pounding continued. It should have annoyed him, but if he could not hold onto fear, the most primal of his emotions, then it was not possible to keep the others. They simply were not there, and the noise continued unabated.

In this nothingness, with only the rhythmic pounding as company, something changed.

* * *

There was a lightness to Slaine, that he could feel even in waking. It felt like he weighed less, or that gravity was no longer so harsh on him, and it was strange to lay in a bed, not quite awake, and feel like he could float. But perhaps waking thoughts were the stuff of nonsense to begin with, he chided to himself.

He smelt flowers. More specifically, he smelt lilies, as they overpowered less abrasive smells. That was not particularly odd, but it didn't make much sense. He liked floral scents, but he tended to stay away from lilies. Whenever he smelt them, he was instantly transported in front of a coffin that looked like it might slam down on him if he got too close. It was not a memory he liked to relive, but this smell was not unpleasant. The image of a powdered, immovable face came to him, but none of the emotional baggage came with it. It was a fresh, strong smell, and he instantly felt petty for avoiding it so often.

As he lay there, the thought of slipping back into sleep was not an unsavory one, but there was an energy inside of him that rebelled against the idea. There was a pulsing in his blood stream, an itch to get up and move, to never stand still again. It was strange and new, and Slaine didn't know what to make of it. He was not exactly an energetic person by nature. He might have liked to be at one point, but then he'd felt it simply wasn't for him. Rest had always been rather nice in its own measure. This feeling of impending motion, of needing to move, was startling. Had he ever felt this way when he was younger? For the life of him, he couldn't remember.

In something of a compromise, he opened his eyes, and winced. It was very bright, and it felt like his eyes hadn't seen light in years. Involuntarily he squeezed them shut again, and groaned at the discomfort.

Something rustled beside him. It was a soft sound, something he might have missed, but his senses were unusually sharp, and sought out every disturbance, even minor ones. He heard the motion, and the stillness that came after it. Was someone there? He didn't know, but it now seemed rather likely.

Slowly, he squinted his eyes open once more, giving himself time to adjust to the bright room.

He was laid out on his back in a hospital room, the overabundance of white left no doubt in his mind. Vaguely, it occurred to him that was right, that he should be in the hospital. It was his heart. It was always his heard. There had been a procedure. He remembered the doctor sitting him down, and going over the details, while Slaine had tried his best to look like he was paying attention. He remembered being told that after, he might be in pain, and he would be tired. He felt none of that. Short of being groggy, and subsequently slow witted, Slaine felt wonderful. He guessed that meant that everything had gone better than expected.

Slaine hadn't thought he could feel better, but suddenly, he did. It seemed like years of worry and fretting were finally gone. Years of taking medication were over, and worries of exerting himself to dangerous levels were now a thing of the past. There were so many small aspects of his life, little things that he hadn't been allowed, or that he had never allowed for himself, that were suddenly available. He didn't know if there was a word that could accurately describe it. He felt whole, a feeling he never realized he'd lost.

He let his eyes slide shut again. The bed was a little hard, but it didn't matter, the relief made him like air, as if it had always been unnatural to tie him down with such earthly problems. In jest, he wondered if he was too old for that sort of feeling. He also wondered if people decided they wanted to be pilots young in life. No, certainly not. If he wanted to be a pilot now, he could do it. Maybe he'd call it a midlife crisis, cause he suddenly felt like he'd been old his whole life, and now he felt blessedly young. He wanted to do something reckless and foolish.

The door opened. Slaine looked over and for the first time, realized Klancain was sitting on a chair to his right, fast asleep. Klancain must have been the source of the shifting sound he'd heard earlier.

At the door, a woman Slaine had never seen before was poking her head into the room. She was looking at him, and her face was distinctively blank. The two of them stared at one another for a few moments, before she properly swung the door open, and walked in. From how she'd poked her head into the room, like a student who wasn't sure she was in the right place, Slaine had just assumed she was lost, but now that he looked at her in full, the woman was definitely a nurse.

The nurse crossed the room quickly and reached for a clip board on the side of his bed. She looked it over for a few moments, before giving him a sideways glance. "How do you feel?" She asked, her tone level, and lacking any emotion.

He gave something of a hesitant smile, trying to soften the strength of her gaze. "Uh, Good?"

Her eyes didn't waver. "Any pain or numbness?"

"No."

Only then did she avert her eyes back down to the clip board. "The doctor will be in to see you shortly." Her eyes were not on him, as she slipped the clipboard back into its holster, and made her way to the door. She was out in a few seconds, the door clicking shut behind her. With her out of the room, Slaine let himself relax again. He hadn't noticed how tense he was until she was gone. She had easily been the most intimidating nurse he'd ever seen. With her out of the picture, he turned his attention to Klancain, still sleeping in the chair beside him, unaware of the intrusion at all.

On his right bed side table, he noticed a modest arrangement of cut flowers, full of white lilies, red chrysanthemums, and a variety of other flowers. Perhaps the most interesting of them, was a seemingly inconspicuous light purple rose, right in the middle of the arrangement. Slaine took a big whiff, and the lilies came at him in full force. Unbidden images of a funeral came to him, but not even they were enough to dampen his perspective. He felt strongly that it was now behind him for good.

Klancain wasn't much for cut flowers, or plants at all, if Slaine was being honest. Despite that, the arrangement was very nice, even if it's presence was odd at best. Slaine had been temporarily distracted by the bouquet, but now shifted his gaze back over to Klancain. He was unable to keep the confusion off his face.

Klancain shouldn't have been there. He was off at home for Christmas. Even if he'd known, Slaine doubted he'd have come all the way back. If Slaine had told him ahead of time, he probably wouldn't have left at all, but that was neither here or there. Slaine hadn't wanted his younger brother around for this. He remembered the text earlier that morning, but that didn't really explain anything either.

His younger brother looked tired. There were rings around his eyes, and a scowl on his usually calm face. His cheeks and eyes also looked strangely puffy, and he was slumped in the chair, in a position that looked very uncomfortable. Slaine thought about not waking him, because there was something about the scene that made it obvious that Klancain needed the sleep, but after considering it, Slaine disregarded the idea. If he let Klancain sleep like that, his back and neck might hurt later, so it was better to wake him now.

"Klancain," he called softly from the bed. His younger brother didn't even stir. Slaine should have known better. His brother had slept through the whole exchange with the nurse, a soft little call wasn't going to wake him. Frowning, Slaine hoisted himself up into a sitting position (because the nurse hadn't told him he couldn't) and used the extra maneuverability to reach over and shake one of Klancain's knee, and called him louder this time.

Klancain woke with a start, his eyes flashing open and panicked. His eyes roamed around almost franticly for a few seconds, before settling on Slaine. Klancain's shortness of breath suddenly seemed to even, and some sort of tension came out of him, but he did not yet look calm or collected. Slaine suddenly felt bad for deciding to wake him.

There was a strange look in Klancain's eyes, as if he wasn't exactly sure how to feel, and instead, had decided to feel nothing at all. He looked at Slaine for a few moments, without either of them saying anything. Slaine thought for sure he'd be mad, but his face was decidedly blank. Slaine had hid the procedure, and intentionally arranged it so that Klancain would be out of town. But he'd done it for a reason, and Slaine wasn't exactly happy to be intruded on. It was a strange mix of irritation, curiosity, and happiness at seeing a familiar face, that went through Slaine's mind, so maybe Klancain was going through something similar.

When the silence dragged on for too long, Slaine scratched the back of his neck, and looked away. "Hi?" He wasn't really sure what say, so the first random thing that popped into his head was what came out.

Whatever strangeness was between them, seemed to lessen, and suddenly, Klancain was chuckling, and leaning back in his seat. "Hi Slaine," he answered, not letting his eyes roam.

They almost lapsed into silence again, before Slaine worked up the guts to say what was actually on his mind. "Klan, why are you here?"

The question seemed to make his younger brother uncomfortable, because Klancain finally broke his gaze, and looked at some innocuous spot on the floor. "The hospital called me."

Slaine frowned. They weren't suppose to have called Klancain. He opened his mouth to say something to the effect, but Klancain beat him to the punch, speaking first. "Do you feel-" Klancain paused, and almost seemed unable to breath for a second, "-okay?"

"Fine," Slaine answered. "Better than fine, really."

The two of them fell back into silence, and Klancain leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and hanging his head just a little. There was still a strangeness to the conversation, and it was obvious neither of them knew what to do. Even with that, Slaine found he didn't mind. There would be time for all of that later, right now, he was just happy, basking in this new sense of weightlessness he found himself in.

Just then, the door opened, and the doctor that had briefed him before the procedure walked into the room. She looked at him impassively, but Slaine could detect a hint of curiosity to her gaze. Unlike the nurse, the doctor didn't reach down and pull out the clip board. Apparently she didn't need it. She gave Slaine and Klancain something of a practiced smile as she looked between them.

"How are you doing?" She asked Slaine, where her main focus settled.

He was starting to get a little irritated at that question, but he easily showed a smile, and shrugged. "Fine." The answer was clipped, and it was only after it was out that he felt rather bad for it. It sounded a little rude in his head. "Good, I mean. I feel good." He amended, the smile never leaving his face.

The doctor turned to look over at Klancain, and gave him a quick smile. "I'll be speaking to him about the procedure. Please wait in the hallway, and I'll get you when I've finished."

Slaine cautioned a glance over at Klancain, and his brother was all cold Cruhteo fury. "I'm his younger brother." Klancain stated, without any room for compromise. This popped up sometimes, because they looked nothing alike. People just assumed they were friends a lot of the time. It seemed to bug Klancain more than Slaine for some reason.

The doctor didn't seem intimidated by Klancain's show of anger, and instead turned her attention back to Slaine. "Do you want him here?" She asked innocently.

Slaine blanched. This was exactly why he hadn't let Klancain know in the first place. He didn't want Klancain to know, but outright telling him to get out was mean, and usually came with repercussions. For a few seconds Slaine looked nervously between the two, before looking away.

"I'll have to ask you to leave, Mr. Cruhteo. If you aren't in the hallway when I come out, I'll send a nurse to the waiting room for you." The doctor said, as smooth as silk.

Then of course Klancain's blue eyes were on him, and Slaine didn't dare look, knowing that he would fold in a heartbeat. A part of him felt guilty, and knew that he should let Klancain stay, but he really didn't want Klancain there. This was his own business, and it had nothing to do with any of the Cruhteos.

Klancain stood, and walked to the door. Slaine had expected a scene, or at least some obvious shows of anger, but there was none of it. As Klancain left, Slaine saw hurt on his face, and those large ugly rings under his younger brothers eyes, before the door was closed, and Klancain was gone. Somehow, Slaine felt disarmed, like he'd done something wrong.

Once Klancain was out of the room, the doctor came closer to his bed side, and sat down in the seat that Klancain had just been in. "Any pain, numbness, disorientation?" She asked.

Slaine shook his head and smiled back at the doctor. The gesture hadn't been forced before, but it was now. He felt heavy again. "No, nothing like that. I really do feel fine. Better then fine, really." He answered.

The doctor cocked her head to the side, as if she wasn't sure she believed the answer, but found it interesting anyway. "Well, that's pretty good, considering you were dead 8 hours ago."


	15. Chapter 15

They were keeping him overnight for observation, and that wasn't a figure of speech, because a consistent trickle of nurses kept poking their heads in to confirm that Slaine was, in fact, still alive. Once Slaine knew enough to guess at the reason why, he found it unnerving to be checked up on so frequently. It wouldn't have been strange if it was the same person popping in from time to time, but it was always different nurses. At some point the theory started to develop in his head that just outside the door, they were all whispering about him, the patient that had been dead, and now miraculously wasn't. Each of them had to come in and see for themselves. Slaine tried his best to be polite, but the whole thing made him nervous and twitchy, so polite was not easy. Did they expect him to keel over unexpectedly, or had he simply baffled all authority in the hospital?

Klancain had no patience for any of it, and always confronted the nurses head on with questions and anger. Slaine had tried to calm him down a few times, but it was really a wonder that Klancain hadn't gotten kicked out of the hospital. After about two hours, with visits every 15 to 20 minutes, Slaine was more than willing to just let him have at it. The smart nurses were quiet, and slunk in while Klancain had drifted off into fitful sleeping spells that didn't last for very long. Slaine couldn't imagine his younger brother being comfortable enough to sleep, but Klancain seemed to be doing a lot of nodding off, so perhaps Slaine was wrong.

Except for the steady interruptions, the rooms two occupants stayed in relative silence. Klancain didn't talk to him, and he didn't talk to Klancain. A casual observer might have thought they were angry with each other, but in truth, Slaine simply didn't know what to say. In his own head, he had already started the conversation a hundred times, trying to find the right things to ask or say. Every possibility turned out wrong, and even when they seemed to be going right, a nurse would come in and interrupt his thought processes, and he'd have to start over from scratch. In the end, it was simply easier to accept that he had no idea what he should do. He didn't even know what he thought about the situation, so there wasn't much chance of being able to accurately express in words the general turmoil in his head.

Klancain was probably angry, but Slaine had looked up a few times, and often found him either nodding off, or outright asleep, his expression worn and accompanied by occasional twitching. Things Slaine had noticed before were now blaringly obvious. The experience had made an older man of Klancain, and the rings under his eyes almost looked like fresh bruises, full of black flesh and veins. Sometimes Slaine would catch himself looking, committing Klancain's image to memory, before averting his eyes, usually to the colorful bouquet of flowers at his bed side. They were a welcome distraction of beauty, color and smell, but the diversion never seemed to last. He still didn't know what to say.

The silence stretched between them until Klancain would suddenly wake with a gasped start, and his eyes would flutter, stricken and confused until they settle on Slaine. He'd calm a little after that, but within a few minutes, Klancain would be nodding off again. Normally, it would have been rather endearing to watch his otherwise composed younger brother so unkempt, but there was no joy or humor in it now. Slaine told himself it was irrational, but he felt like it was his fault.

Slaine tried to imagine himself in Klancain's position, wondered how he would react if he was in the chair and Klancain in the hospital bed, but it was impossible to fathom. Slaine was older and had the heart problem, he'd never really considered that Klancain would go before him. He'd just figured that Klancain, in some capacity, would always be there. It was irrational, and now that he examined it, the fact was blaringly obvious. But even armed with that logic, every time he tried to imagine their positions switched, his brain came away blank, as if it had no reference. It was like writing a research paper without doing any research, he just had no clue. He tried comparing it to how he'd felt when his father died, but it didn't seem to help much. The situation was too different. He'd felt empty then, but he wasn't quite sure if empty and blank were the same thing. It was like he'd written down the equation wrong, and no matter how many angles or perspectives he tried, it refused to be answered.

At some point, Slaine's mind wandered away from Klancain, probably because there was only so much thinking he could do about the same thing without going insane. He'd always been much better at avoiding his problems or even occasionally confronting them.

He wondered about Tharsis, all alone at home. She probably missed them. She was never happy about being left alone for long periods of time, and was usually cross when they got back. Slaine would have to get her something special to apologize. He hadn't expected such an extended stay in the hospital, hadn't even wanted to think about the possibility of not returning, but maybe that had been foolish to begin with. Maybe he should have arranged for someone to look after her. He wondered if Klancain had stopped by the house to check on her.

Back to the general subject of Klancain - which he found all roads seemed to lead back to - had he told their mother what was going on? She would have known something was wrong because he had left, but without asking, Slaine had no idea. He didn't want her to know about this if he could help it, but he thought saying that might start a fight. Klancain looked just as ill equipped to argue as he was to stay awake, but he tended to play dirty when he was backed into a corner. It was best to just wait. There was also a part of him that still felt bad about the whole thing, that maybe he should have just said something at the onset, but he still wanted to keep it as private as possible, that was his own right as an adult.

It also came to him at some point, after imagining having to explain the situation to Mrs. Cruhteo, that Inaho was distinctly missing from the scene. The android had insisted on going with him to the hospital, had even wanted to accompany him in with the doctor. Slaine wondered if he should feel guilty about not letting him, considering how things had turned out. In fact, was possible for Inaho to still be in the waiting room, but Slaine hoped that wasn't the case. He'd been in the hospital all day, the thought of Inaho sitting out there waiting for him was just another thing he could imagine happening. It was sort of silly, really. Inaho had probably been inanimate for a really long time, so he might not even mind waiting around, might not even think it was long at all, but Slaine still hoped that he'd left. It would be better that way.

For a short time, he even thought about sneaking out and going to check, but knowing his luck one of the nurses would catch him. He wondered if he could convince one of them to let him walk around, for recreational purposes of course. But at the same time, he also remembered how resistant Inaho had been to having anyone else know what he was. For Inaho, there did seem to be a real sense of danger involved, even though it wasn't something Slaine exactly understood. That little fact complicated the matter though. With Klancain back so early, it would be difficult to hide Inaho's handicaps. It wasn't that he had ever really intended to keep it from his brother, but now it would be pretty obvious when Inaho suddenly had a working eye and arm again. He still wasn't sure what Inaho would be comfortable with, so it was really just better to say nothing for now. Not that he was talking to his brother anyway.

He hoped Inaho had found somewhere warm and safe to stay, with the possibility of Klancain going back to the apartment, Slaine wasn't sure that was a good option, unless Inaho hid. Klancain hadn't mentioned anything, which was probably a good sign that nothing out of the ordinary had happened, but it was still rather nerve wracking to think about. Slaine hoped that if Inaho wasn't waiting out in the hallway, that he was instead in a cafe somewhere with a library book in hand. As the image came to his mind, Slaine remembered when he'd first put Inaho into some of his old clothes. It had been the big baggy sweater that had made Slaine sure Inaho could easily fit in as a college student, napping off midterm stress. It was nice to think of, and one of the only nice things that came to mind. He imagined Inaho in a few different settings, all rather boring, or even domestic, and for a few moments, it was nice in the hospital room. If nothing else, he'd at least done something right on that front.

The silence stretched between them for what seemed like hours, with Klancain nodding in and out of sleep, before finally falling still. If it had been light outside, it would probably have been easy to tell just how long they'd been sitting there, but outside it was dark and thus it remained. Slaine figured he probably could have kept track of the time by how frequently the nurses came in, but counting them made him even more nervous, so it wasn't worth the trouble.

Sitting there doing nothing should have made Slaine tired, but even through his emotional distress, there was still the pulsing in his veins, the urge to get up and do something. He didn't indulge it, but it was impossible to sleep through. Every time his mind got close to silent, it thrummed back into prominence, reminding him that it hadn't gone away. Like a sound in the background, it was hard to notice when he was busy. It filtered in with the other sounds around him or with his own muddled thoughts, but when there was nothing, it came back at him with a vengeance, and refused to be ignored. It was probably because he'd slept all day, after a while, it might just go away. He didn't let his thoughts stop for long to find out, he kept them moving, predicting outcomes of things he would never do or say.

"Do you want me to leave?" The statement shattered whatever thought had been occurring in Slaine's head, like a brick hurled through a glass door. His head whirled around to Klancain, who was sitting back in the uncomfortable hospital chair, his face blank except for his eyes, which were black rimmed and puffy. The last time he'd looked, Klancain had been fast asleep, but he seemed alert, even if it looked like he hadn't slept well in months.

The question itself startled him, and for a few moments his brain and ears did not work together to translate it into recognizable language. He probably wore the confusion on his face, until things finally fell into place, and the statement made sense. For having over thought everything else, it took surprisingly long to process. Once he understood though, the first answer that came to Slaine's mind was yes. He'd never wanted Klancain here to begin with, hadn't wanted him to know, and now that he did, Slaine wanted to just avoid whatever this was. He still wasn't sure exactly what had happened, and with Klancain such a physical presence in the room, it was impossible to think clearly. He'd been chasing his proverbial tail every since he woke up with Klancain in plain view. It probably wasn't fair to blame Klancain for his inability to process the situation, but it seemed just as viable an option as anything else.

The doctor had explained some things, and he'd been given the chance to ask her questions about the operations, and the death certificate with his name on it, but he'd come up with nothing to say. That ever present pulse hammering away in his blood stream had been too loud for him to think. He told himself that it really didn't matter, that maybe he didn't want to know the details. How it had worked wasn't all that important, it had worked out ,that had been the important part. Even if the nurses appraised him as if he was some anomaly, even if after the ordeal he had no scars, and felt better than when he'd walked in. He knew it didn't make sense, but it almost seemed like a better idea to just leave it that way. The doctor hadn't seemed to have any answers, and she was the expert, what use was there in Slaine running himself ragged over it?

He tried to rationalize with himself, that even if he'd told Klancain, it wouldn't have really mattered. It certainly wouldn't have changed anything. Slaine hadn't gone out of his way to add concern, he'd tried to relieve it. There was a difference, and he didn't need to feel guilty about it. But that look in Klancain's eye was not something so easily dismissed, and Slaine didn't dare open his mouth in haste.

It occurred to him, quite suddenly, that maybe Klancain wasn't asking about that exact moment. As if something inside of him could tell what would happen, he saw himself saying yes, saw Klancain leaving the room, and then the house, and then the collage where they both went -he'd known that Klancain could do better, could have gone abroad or anywhere he wanted to, but Slaine had never once asked why. Once again, he didn't want to know, so he'd just ignored the nagging question in his head. Slaine saw himself living alone again, his phone silent and unused. Having to find other people to fill the empty spaces inside of himself was not a new sort of terror, but an old familiar one, that gripped him without warning. Suddenly, he was the little boy looking down at his father's coffin, the void eating away at him like a disease. He realized that empty, and blank, were quite different.

The feeling was probably inevitable, he realized. It was something he'd have to deal with again at some point, part of the growing process he'd gotten a taste of too early in life. He didn't think he could do it again, not for real, not unless he had to, and definitely not at that moment, when his thinking was so strange, so out of tune. He felt, with great certainty, that something was at a breaking point, and he couldn't let it happen.

"No." The answer was out of him, and in his head it sounded like he meant it, it sounded starved.

Klancain was still looking at him, and he found it surprisingly easy to match his stare and not shrink. After a time, it was Klancain that looked away, leaning his head back and looking up at the ceiling.

If there was going to be an opening, this was probably it. He knew he was playing with ice, Cruhteo tempers burned cold and fearsome, but Klancain looked so exhausted. Maybe he didn't have enough energy to get angry anymore. It was a horrible thing to think, but it didn't stop him. "What did they tell you?"

Klancain shifted in his seat, his eyes still focused on the ceiling. He seemed to be considering the question, or maybe how he wanted to answer it. The silence stretched on for a while before he closed his eyes, as if he had the answer etched on the back of his eyelids. He opened his mouth once, but sound seemed to unable to escape his throat. Nothing came, and for a few seconds, Slaine wondered if Klancain had fallen asleep again. Eventually his eyes fluttered open, and he moved his gaze over Slaine, but it was more like he was looking through him, instead of at him.

"Not much." Klancain finally said, in a faux pleasant tone. That seemed to be the end of it, all that Klancain was willing to say on the matter. "What did they tell you when your-" Klancain paused for just a moment, "-father, passed?"

The white of the hospital sheets were suddenly very interesting to Slaine, and he noticed that his hands were gripped tightly in the fabric. He uncurled them, smoothing out the sheets beneath his fingers. "Not much? I was young, and it's mostly a blur." Slaine managed a look over at Klancain. His younger brother cocked his head ever so slightly to the side, which seemed to indicate that the conversation was over. Slaine didn't mourn the loss. At least they were talking again.

It was hard to ignore the slope of Klancain's shoulders, or the little lines around his eyes that Slaine hadn't noticed before. "You can go home, get some real sleep. They said they'd let me out in the morning." Slaine thought about adding something witty about how uncomfortable the chair looked to the end of that statement, but decided against it. He was hardly witty at the best of times, which this certainly wasn't.

Right after the statement, as if to confirm the obvious, Klancains mouth split into a wide yawn, which he angled into the crook of his arm. When he blinked his eyes open again, he gave Slaine something of an amused look, but it was obviously forced. "I don't think they'd let me back in if I left." He stated it as if it was meant to be funny. Perhaps the thought of the hospital staff black listing Klancain Cruhteo was a funny thought normally, but again, Klancain's attempt at lightening the mood was weak at best. Slaine wondered how suddenly they'd switched sides. Usually Slaine was the one avoiding subjects like the plague with attempted jabs or misdirection. Klancain wasn't exactly straight forward, but he usually didn't tolerate Slaine's avoidance either. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, Slaine was almost tempted to give Klancain the same treatment. Of course one look at his younger brother made the thought evaporate.

There was a soft echoing of footsteps in the hallway that suddenly seemed to fill the silence. Both of them looked over at the door, Klancain with a very unbecoming scowl on his face, but the footsteps came and went without stopping. Then once again the silence stretched between them, before Klancain turned toward him. "Are you hungry?"

His mind had been too occupied with other things to consider food, but now that Klancain mentioned it, food sounded wonderful. "Are you?" Slaine angled back at his younger brother. Now that he thought of it, he didn't even know how long Klancain had been at the hospital with him. His internal clock was sorta screwed up.

Klancain scrunched up his face for half a second, as if the thought itself disgusted him, but once the half second was over, his face evened out into something more composed. "I could probably eat." The answer didn't sound convincing, but Slaine knew how to take an opportunity when he saw one.

"Would you pick something up for me?" It was a harmless request, completely rational, and he really was hungry now that he was thinking of it. Getting Klancain out of the room was just an added bonus. Somehow, Slaine thought that once he was on his own, had time to think by himself without Klancain hovering, he'd be able to figure something out. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but it was worth a try.

Taking the bait, Klancain nodded once, and got up from his chair. His hands instantly went to his pockets, and he stopped. He'd been in the process of turning, but something had stilled him. With a blank look on his face, Klancain turned his head back towards Slaine. He then pulled his hand out of his pocket, and tossed his phone onto the hospital bed.

"You should call mom." Klancain said simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and strode out of the room with his shoulders hunched.


End file.
